Dias Irae
by MadeOfThoughtsAndStardust
Summary: A soulless Sam picks up a mercenary no one would have expected, but the arrangement proves useful enough to keep her around. The question is: how long will it be until her past makes their miserable present worse?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me, just my character Angel and bits of the plot.**

...

"Angel, c'mere a sec and tell me what you think about this," Sam asked, not looking up from his computer. Angel took a swig from her bottle of whiskey before getting up to help. "Demon or natural?"

"Could be either. It's subtle if it's demonic—it wouldn't be some run-of-the-mill crossroads demon or anything like that. There are a few monsters that could cause those storms too. It'd be worth investigating," she answered, looking at the bigger city it centered around with anticipation.

"Worth investigating or near more bars?" Sam asked, grinning at Angel.

"You don't pay me enough to insult me, honey," she remarked, grinning back and offering him a drink.

"I don't pay you at all," he retorted, taking the offered drink.

"Look at your credit card bills again, Sam," Angel chuckled, taking the whiskey back. "You'd better go tell your family you've found a hotspot."

"Come with me. Dean's been back long enough to handle meeting another hunter now," Sam suggested. Angel snorted.

"Yeah, another hunter. Is that what you're going to tell him? The rest of your family isn't buying that so much anymore," she told him. "I've walked over more salt lines and devil's traps in the past week than I have in my lifetime. One of them even poured out my last bottle of vodka and filled it with holy water."

"I told them you weren't a demon, but they wouldn't believe me," Sam pouted. Angel rolled her eyes.

"Let's go. Tell the boy I'm the tooth fairy for all I care," she instructed. They both got up and headed toward the living area of the compound. Sam's thoughts were occupied on finding a way to convince Dean that Angel was a good part of the team and that they needed her. Angel's thoughts were centered around the new city. She was ready to move on from the dead town they'd been staying, but she didn't like the idea of running into a powerful demon. She wasn't ready for the truth about her to be public. Convincing Sam had been hard. Convincing the others was more than she wanted to do—at least until she'd made herself indispensable to them.

"Hey, Dean," Sam greeted upon finding his brother alone at the table.

"Hey, Sammy. What's the pla—Who's that?" Dean demanded, his original, resigned inquiry stopped by the sudden addition of another new person.

"Name's Angel. Sam's been consulting with me for a few months now," Angel explained, noting the dozen empty beer bottles on the table with an internal smile. She'd heard the other Winchester boy was an alcoholic.

"We've been looking for demon signs. Angel thinks we've found a lead," Sam informed his brother. Movement near the doorway drew all their eyes, revealing Samuel Campbell. "Hey, we were just telling Dean we think we've found something."

"Good, we've been here too long. What'd you find?" he asked. Sam outlined the signs and Angel's theory.

"If I'm right, whatever it is seems to stay in place for around a month at a time. The signs just started a few days ago over here. We should have plenty of time," Angel added once Sam was finished.

"Good work. We'll pack up and leave in the morning. Are you two going to go scout it out?" Samuel asked. Dean looked up, trying to determine if Samuel meant Sam and him or Sam and Angel.

"I'll meet you there, but there's no need to send scouts. There's no rush on this hunt," Angel informed them.

"Why are you moving on early instead of waiting for the rest of us then?" Samuel asked. Angel gave him a look, her face scrunched up in displeasure that he asked her about her motives. It had been agreed early on that Angel wasn't to be questioned.

"She's on her last drink," Sam chuckled, taking the bottle of whiskey and holding it up to show everyone. Angel made a face at him. Samuel didn't stop his scrutinizing gaze. If anything, Sam's interference only made him more suspicious.

"A good enough reason to move out," Dean agreed after a moment, deciding that he liked the girl if his grandfather didn't. His month of time with the Campbells made him lose any desire to have had more family as a child. Angel nodded in Dean's direction and snatched her whiskey bottle back.

"Exactly. Shoot me a text when you have some data, Sam. I'll be around somewhere."

...

"Hey, shouldn't you call that girl before we go check this out? I thought you said she was a hunter," Dean asked Sam as he drove to the hotspot of activity, a local hospital. Sam shook his head.

"She's a consultant. She's good at tracking and she's the best against some monsters, but I don't call her until I know what we're up against," Sam explained.

"That's stupid. Whatever it is gets ganked once we find it and figure out how," Dean commented. "Does she ever help out on a hunt or does she always disappear?"

"She helps," Sam protested. "She's better at finding demon signs than anyone I know."

"You'd find them without her, Sammy. You're paying her for nothing," Dean remarked. Sam shook his head and gestured toward the building.

"Let's go see what we're up against," he suggested. Once the two made it into the building, they found what looked like the remnants of a fight—broken lights, debris strewn everywhere.

"I really hope you didn't expect me to let you go, love. You should know better than that," a voice said from the end of the hall. Dean looked concerned, but Sam only looked relieved.

"She beat us here. She must've found out what we were up against," Sam informed Dean. When they entered the room Angel's voice came from, they found her cleaning a blade absently beside a bound and gagged demon in a devil's trap.

"Hey, it was just a demon. I found out who it was and captured her," Angel stated, her eyes never leaving the woman. "Oh, and I need a new card, Sam. The one you gave me is maxed out."

"No problem. Did you question her before you gagged her?" he asked.

"Yeah, no dice. She was just generally wreaking havoc. Were you planning on killing her or exorcising her? The body's not in good enough shape for the host to survive more than a few minutes if you exorcise the bitch," Angel told him.

"What do you think, Dean? Should we free the host just for her to die or kill them both and get it over with?" Sam asked. Dean scowled.

"Is that a question? If we can exorcise a demon, we exorcise a demon," Dean answered.

"All you, Sam. I'm out. There's a man at a bar waiting for me—a few if I'm lucky," Angel droned, turning her back on them with a slight wave.

"Does she always just walk off like that?" Dean asked as Sam started the exorcism. "She captured a demon—nothing we couldn't do—and then disappeared again. Are you paying her for something else?"

"She's a good hunter, Dean. You of all people should know hunters aren't like other people," Sam reasoned once he finished exorcising the demon. Dean's quick work killed the demon before its smoky form had time to escape. The host had a few seconds to look afraid before her eyes glossed over and her head dropped.

"You make me feel so special, Sammy," Dean retorted, kneeling down to untie the corpse. "We burying the girl or just burning the building?"

"Burning," Sam answered. "We don't want to leave any evidence."

...

"What did you need help with? Our calls are never social," Angel asked as she met Sam in the seedy hotel he was staying.

"Dean and I have been off on our own for around a month now, but I wanted to know if you've seen or heard anything about the Campbells. Dean's not the hunter he used to be," Sam informed her. Angel scoffed and took a seat.

"From what I hear, you're something of a prodigy since your daytrip to Hell. Your brother doesn't seem any worse than the others, 'cept he's too soft toward kids," she commented. "I don't talk to the Campbells. They want to know too much and I've blocked Christian from being possessed too many times. And, before you ask, no, I won't babysit your brother. We wouldn't be any good together—hunting or otherwise."

"Blocked Christian from being possessed?" Sam asked.

"Oh, yeah. At least four demons have been sent to possess him. They don't exist anymore. I couldn't have them running stories back to whoever sent them," Angel answered.

"Do you know who sent them?"

"Didn't ask. I saw 'em, I stabbed 'em. Foreplay didn't seem relevant," Angel answered as she went to the fridge. "All you've got is beer? You usually get me something before you call."

"Dean's at the store now. I told him to bring back some hard liquor because you were joining us," Sam informed her.

"I'm joining you now, am I? I guess if you keep the liquor up and I get to sit out on the usual, I could do that. What's the plan now?" she asked, getting out two of the beers and handing him one before sitting back down.

"Run-of-the-mill hunting. We aren't bagging monsters like the Campbells," he answered.

"You still never told me why they're doing that in the first place. Not that it matters. You paid well," Angel shrugged, deciding she didn't really care. As long as she got to keep her secrets and was provided plenty of alcohol, the motives of her employers were irrelevant. Of course, the fact that they hated Lucifer and weren't overly fond of an absentee God didn't hurt.

"I didn't know if you'd help if you did," Sam shrugged.

"You'd better tell me, honey. That sounded an awful lot like I'm going to be angry," she replied, setting down her bottle of beer.

"They're trying to find Alpha monsters to get information about Purgatory."

"Is that all? That doesn't seem like enough to make me mad."

"They're working with a demon to do it. I've kept you from finding out. I figured Dean would accidentally spill it by now and save me the trouble, but he hasn't."

"As long as it isn't under Lucifer's orders, I don't care," Angel shrugged, lifting the beer bottle back to her lips. "So where should I stash my stuff if I'm staying? I don't need a bed, but I've got clothes and stuff I'd rather keep handy."

"Anywhere there's space. There's room in the Impala if you'd rather keep it there," Sam offered.

"I'll just stash it here for now. I don't want to have to track the car down every time I need something. Still think your brother would try to kill me if he knew who I was?"

"No doubt about it. We need to keep him in the dark almost as badly as we did the Campbells. He's got an angel's ear."

"You'd better scam a few more credit cards for me if I've got to worry about one of them. If you don't need me at the moment, I'll head out. You know how much I dislike beer and there's a bar a few blocks away that I've heard good things about. I'll swing by in the morning."

"Bring coffee for Dean, would you?"

"I'm not your servant, lover."

"I'll call Dean and tell him to get you a bottle of that bourbon you like so much."

"Fine. Just this once—and don't expect it to be good coffee."

...

Angel meshed more smoothly into the duo's hunting than Sam expected. She wasn't as surprised. An alcoholic and a ruthless hunter were the type of companions she could understand. Rumors of Eve, the monster-mother, started getting the attention of Sam. Dean was more concerned with his brother's soulless state and Crowley's involvement with the Campbells. Finally, one evening, he decided he needed more to go on. With the help of a few books and a call to Bobby, he set up what he needed to summon Crowley while Sam and Angel were out working on the current investigation.

"Well, well, well. You're so desperate for help you called me," Crowley remarked, standing in the devil's trap Dean laid without the slightest worry.

"Get my brother's soul back. We've worked for you long enough," Dean demanded.

"Hardly, squirrel. You haven't done half the things I have planned," Crowley answered, glancing at the table of the hotel room. "Why don't we go over there to talk? I have a few minutes and you know threatening me won't help you."

"Whatever it takes to get my brother's soul back," Dean grumbled, deflated, and erased a bit of the devil's trap with the toe of his boot. Crowley examined the bottles on the table before sitting down.

"This is a good batch of bourbon. Better than you two would pick out on your own. Who are you working with?" Crowley asked. The lock clicking in the door didn't phase him, but Dean looked toward it.

"We aren't finished, but Sam insisted we stop to get food. Apparently, it's necessary," Angel commented before pausing, staring at Crowley. He looked up at the sound of her voice and froze as well. She grinned after a moment. "Crowley. It's been awhile. Why are you here?"

"Delicia—Poena—or are you going by another name now?" Crowley asked.

"You didn't answer my question, darling, and you should know better than anyone how dangerous that can be," Angel warned. "I suggest you answer me—and get your hands off my bourbon."

"Angel, what's going on?" Sam asked.

"You're going by Angel now? I should've known you'd pick something like that," Crowley muttered. He knew better than to scoff, after all—or delay in answering her too long. "I'm here because that one summoned me. He wants his brother's soul back."

"Is that why he's so amoral? Poor duck used to be such a sweet roll, from what Daddy said. I wondered why he wasn't and why he felt so off. Sit down, Crowley. Here, have a glass of the bloody bourbon to calm your nerves. I won't hurt you unless you displease me," Angel instructed in a better mood, pouring a glass for the demon as she sat down.

"Would anyone care to explain what's going on?" Dean asked. Sam looked at Angel, hoping for her to explain.

"We're…old friends," Crowley hazarded, watching Angel out of the corner of his eyes. She smiled and poured herself a glass.

"Is that the story you're going with, pet? A strange set of friends we were, then. Anyway, so what's this about Sam's soul? I haven't heard this bit yet," Angel asked, lifting her glass to her lips.

"They've been working for me so I would get it back. The Campbells have been helping so I would bring Mary Winchester back," Crowley answered shortly.

"Oh, someone misses Mommy Winchester an awful lot if they're willing to work for you, lover. Now, then, where's little Sammy's soul and what have you been having all these people do?" Angel asked.

"His soul's trapped in the Cage with Lucifer and Michael. I've been looking for information on Purgatory. You wouldn't know anything, would you?"

"Trapped in the Cage! Oh, you've got them working for you on empty promises, haven't you, darling?" Angel chortled. "I always knew you were a bastard, but I didn't expect you to try anything as risky as this. Why do you need information on Purgatory? That doesn't seem like anything that would interest a crossroads demon."

"He's King of Hell now, or so he told us," Sam informed her. She snorted and threw her head back to laugh.

"Oh, son of three bitches, you're the ambitious one yet! I thought Daddy cured you of all that—or are you just holding things together for him until he comes back? Make my day and tell me that's your story—no, don't speak; you'll ruin the moment for me. Oh, do you have any idea what he'd do to you?"

"Are you going to continue this pointless torment or can I go?" Crowley sighed. Dean wondered exactly what sort of woman could hold the self-proclaimed demon king in place more effectively than a devil's trap, but the more he thought, the more he was concerned with her reference to empty promises. Angel smiled.

"You must not have missed me much, love, if you're ready to leave already. You haven't even finished your drink after I condescended to give it to you," she remarked. "Breathe no word of my existence to anyone and you may go. You know it would be in your best interests to listen to my little request. I expect we'll meet again soon."

"Doubtless. Don't summon me again, squirrel. The woman can reach me if you really need to contact me," Crowley said before popping out of the room.

"Really, acting like I'm a mobile. If he hadn't entertained me so much, I would've given him a few lovely scars, at least," Angel muttered.

"What was that about empty promises?" Dean asked once she stopped muttering.

"He can't get into the Cage to get Sam's soul. Without opening it again, your best chance is probably going to be Death—God Himself if you can swing it. Crowley can't do anything," she answered, draining the last bit of liquid in her glass.

"So he's been lying to us?" Sam asked.

"You should've known better, pet. He's a demon," Angel pointed out, nodding and rolling her eyes.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed. "He's had us acting like his circus monkeys for nothing!"

"Of course he has. Did you really expect him to make some sort of fair deal when he knew he could convince you to work for a promise? No, he knows the two of you too well to actually _give_ you anything. He's a _demon_ ," Angel reasoned, lifting the bottle of bourbon to her lips.

"Maybe he'll be more helpful now that we're in league with an old friend of his," Sam remarked drily, curiosity clear. Angel smiled again.

"Worried about competition, love? He doesn't interest me. He wouldn't pay what I would want. Anyway, don't expect any help from him on my watch. He'd kill me the instant he knew he could safely," she informed him. "Just as he knows I would kill him if he proved to be so much as an annoyance. You know me as a demanding employee. Imagine me as a friend."

"Why wouldn't he be able to pay enough? If he's King of Hell, he could give you whatever you wanted—money, prestige, the finest alcohol in the world. All I do is give you credit cards," Sam pointed out.

"Yes, but you want Lucifer to stay in the Cage and you want to find God—for questioning if nothing else. I have questions I want to ask and you two have been part of enough miracles to assure me that I'd get that chance if I was by your side. He'd kill Crowley on the spot," Angel answered easily. "The credit cards supplement the booze I get from the bastards at bars and the same bastards diminish my nighttime boredom. A few things to hunt and kill and I've got enough to survive. Speaking of hunting, you two need to start staking out that house. Send me a message if you require my assistance."

"So you can ignore it for a few hours before answering?" Sam snorted. Angel stood and stretched, smiling at Sam before she headed toward the door.

"An _hour_ is being generous to most of the males of your species and this night's unlikely to be an exception. I'll be at the bar down the street from the house. This city sucks and the sooner we take care of this, the sooner we can move on."

...

"Did you tell Bobby you were bringing someone with you when you called, Sam, or am I just the surprise in the bottom of the Cracker Jack box?" Angel asked, tucking her feet into the back window of the Impala before laying down and taking out Sam's laptop. She thought being ten minutes out was a good reason to look up the town. Had she done it any earlier, she would've been too likely to find an excuse to leave.

"Not exactly," Sam answered, reaching back to shut his laptop. The glint of a blade led to a silent stare-off between the two.

"Bobby'll only be upset for a minute," Dean assured her. "Unlike me if the two of you mess up my car."

"If she gives me my laptop, that won't be a problem. You don't even know the password, Angel," Sam pointed out.

"Oh, sure, I don't. I don't know what porn websites you frequent either," Angel snickered, typing on the laptop. "Ooo, a most-watched video—'Busty—."

"Sam, let her use the laptop before I learn more about your…er… _habits_ ," Dean interrupted. Sam made a face at Angel and turned around in his seat. "Anyway, has Bobby found anything in his books yet, Sam?"

"He had a few possible leads when I called. He was going to follow them while we were on the road," Sam answered.

"This website you had up looks promising, Sam. It's good information. This Eve sounds like she'll be fun. I wish I knew more about her," Angel remarked. "That's a good point about Echidna—the Greek Mother of All Monsters. That seems to be what this Eve is—more or less, anyway."

"If Bobby doesn't know more, we should call Cas, Dean," Sam said. "He would know more."

"Why, so he can ignore us? Son of a bitch never answers anyway," Dean grumbled.

"Why haven't you at least tried if this Cas could be some help?" Angel asked.

"Dean doesn't like being ignored," Sam replied.

"You didn't tell me we were going to such a small town! Where am I supposed to exist while we're there?" Angel protested, gesturing at the map she'd pulled up on Sam's laptop. She gave him the laptop and leaned on the back of his chair hopelessly.

"There's a bar in the next town over. It should be enough for you for a few days," Sam chuckled. Angel groaned. "Bobby's got a pretty good liquor cabinet. I'm sure he'd let you check it out."

"We're about to find out," Dean remarked, parking the car in its usual spot. "Sam, get it over with and go tell Bobby you brought your girlfriend with you."

"Girlfriend," Angel snorted, climbing out of the car. "Just tell him I'm a hunter that's traveling with you. There's no reason to lie—and I'm not waiting outside like a dog."

The brothers glanced at each other and then shrugged. They entered the house and made their introductions as smoothly as possible. Bobby, used to the trouble the boys brought home, wasn't angry with the addition. If anything, he was surprised they managed to convince an attractive female hunter to go with them. Her interest in his liquor cabinet and clever impersonation as a dead body on his couch reconciled him to her presence. After everyone was more or less settled, Bobby pulled out the books he'd marked.

"The best I've found is phoenix ashes. It ought to kill her," Bobby informed them after showing them the data.

"Phoenix ashes? Okay, where do we get that?" Sam asked. Angel leaned over Sam's shoulder, pointing at a journal.

"There's Bobby's best answer. Samuel Colt," she said disinterestedly before picking up the book. She read a page or two before throwing it back onto the table. "I don't know how you're going to get the ashes. They're long gone by now and phoenixes were never common."

"Cas can send someone back," Bobby remarked. Angel crossed her arms over her chest, wondering again if she should ask who Cas was. She had a sinking feeling she really didn't want the answer. "Dean, you'd better tell him we have a plan."

"Bobby, I'm going to get another bottle of your liquor. Which one would you least like to lose?" Angel asked, heading into the kitchen. Bobby lifted a hand to protest before giving up and turning his attention to Sam and Dean. Almost instantly, Cas appeared in the room they were gathered.

"What is it?" he asked.

"We've found a way to kill Eve—phoenix ashes. Problem is, the only reference we could find was Samuel Colt's journal," Dean informed him. Cas picked up the journal and perused it silently.

"This isn't a bad batch, Bobby. The boys don't sing your praises well enough," Angel commented, reentering the room. The bottle shattered on the ground as Cas suddenly attacked her, pinning her to the wall by the throat. "Well, aren't you a far cry from the brother that took me to see a nebula because he thought I'd enjoy it?"

"Why are you here?" Cas demanded, pricking her neck with his angel blade.

"Use it like you mean it, Castiel," Angel laughed.

"Uh, Cas? What's going on?" Dean asked. Angel and Cas glared at each other for another moment before Cas took a step back, releasing her. Angel fell to the ground, rubbing her throat.

"Why are you working with this…woman?" Cas demanded of Dean while Sam helped Angel up.

"I'm a good hunter, Cassie boy, and who I work with is none of your business," Angel answered, crossing her arms over her chest. The proximity of Sam and Bobby made her feel certain Cas wouldn't try anything again unless she really angered him.

"What you do is the business of everyone who cares about the fate of this world. You were thought to be dead. Where have you been?" Cas demanded, turning on her. She took a step back, running into Sam. _Oh, sweet roll's going to protect me, is he? Good. I've won his support and brother Castiel isn't likely to attack with one of his pet humans so close_ , Angel thought, drawing her strength.

"Oh, do you mean before or after Michael trapped me in the cage with Lucifer? I was there until it got opened—then I was in Hell. Once Da—Lucifer, I mean—got trapped again, I headed out on my own and teamed up with Sam and Dean here. Was I really supposed to be dead? Who was thought to have killed me, love?" Angel asked, ignoring the sudden stillness that had gone over the room. Sam's presence at her back was a reminder that at least one of the group more or less knew everything and had chosen to keep her around.

"It was thought that Lucifer killed you centuries ago," Cas answered.

"It's good to know the host of heaven gave me up for dead. I take it you've been taught to kill me on contact. I can still see you fingering that blade, lover. Leave it alone or do as Daddy Dearest taught you and slice my neck—if you can," Angel hissed quietly, pulling her ashy brown curls back. They glared at one another in silence.

"Is someone going to tell me what the hell's going on here?" Bobby demanded.

"I was introduced as Angel Cage—the name's a bitter joke. I was the last of the angels, the host of heaven's youngest sibling. When Lucifer fought with God, Michael was sent to throw Lucifer in the cage in Hell. I was thrown in with him. No one's ever explained why, but it doesn't really matter. I was left in the cage with Lucifer for millennia until he escaped. This body you see before you—Lucifer made it for me, mimicking Daddy Dearest's work. That's why Cassie tried to kill me and King Crowley nearly lost his nerve at the sight of me," Angel explained, sounding bored.

"So you're an angel?" Dean hazarded. Angel shrugged, going to the table to pick up an unopened bottle of beer.

"I was, anyway. I don't think there's a term for my type now, lover, for all the ones they've tried," she answered. "Sam already knew the gist of it. It doesn't change anything. I'm still your hired mercenary. Didn't you call Cassie dear to tell him about the way to kill Eve?"

Dean explained the situation to Castiel as casually as he could. Cas gradually turned his attention to the information and explained that they would have to send someone back for it.

"Do you have the energy to recall them if you send them back that far? That's no little jump and you're already worn," Angel pointed out, returning from the other room with a new liquor bottle to replace the broken one and the depleted beer.

"I can send them for a short period of time," Cas answered her, giving her a distrusting look.

"Hey, if you think you can do it, I'm not going to stop you. I just want to get paid," she shrugged, taking a drink to signify she was going to sit out the rest of the planning. They continued discussing for several minutes before the plan seemed reasonably set. Cas pulled Dean off to the side when the plans seemed to be made.

"I will not send you and your brother back while she is free nearby, Dean. It is too dangerous," Cas said. Dean glanced at where Angel and Sam were working on the computer.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Dean asked, uncertain how to appease Cas without angering Angel.

"A holy fire would contain her until the mission was completed," Cas answered, pulling a jar of the oil out of his coat. Dean glanced at Angel again and knew a fight was bound to break out. He called Sam over and explained it to him quietly, leaving it to him to convince Angel. Dean watched apprehensively as Sam went back over to Angel.

"What? You want me to be trapped for God knows how long like that? What if the house is attacked? You want to leave Bobby and a half-charged angel to protect you—not that Bobby's not a good hunter, but he'd be too distracted by protecting Cas to keep you two from being lost—and you really think that's a good idea?" Angel exclaimed, standing so quickly she nearly knocked over the table. "Put Cas in the holy fire instead. I won't be able to touch him and you'll have a full-fledged fighter out there to help Bobby."

"That's not a bad idea, Dean," Sam reasoned, looking at Dean in the hopes of convincing him so he could convince Cas.

"What do you say, Cas? She's got a point," he pointed out. Cas looked at Angel for a long moment, trying to decide if he trusted her enough for the plan to work.

"Fine," he agreed finally. Angel left while the others prepared. When they were finally ready, Cas sent the Winchesters back and then collapsed. Bobby sat down and watched, waiting for Cas to recover or Angel to return. He had a feeling that it was going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me, just my character Angel and bits of the plot.**

...

"What? No, you're not getting part of my Grace to help them back. Why don't you ask Bobby to use his soul?" Angel shot at Cas, her arms over her stomach as she took a step away from the holy fire circle. She would never admit that it was in fear of Cas using her Grace without her permission, but years in the cage had made her protective of herself.

"Your Grace would cause less damage," Cas reasoned again.

"What's going on?" Bobby asked as he entered the room.

"Cas needs help. He wants to use my Grace, but I refuse. If he could touch your soul, he would get the power he needs to bring the brothers back safely," Angel answered quickly from the far side of the room.

"It would be more likely to cause harm if I use his soul instead of your Grace," Cas argued again.

"Yeah, well, not going to happen. I'm not paid enough for that," Angel protested. Bobby stepped forward and offered himself, provided Angel would guard them. She agreed, putting out the holy fire to let Bobby in. A flash of light, two cries of pain, and suddenly the Winchesters were back. Angel managed to catch both of the wounded before turning her attention to the brothers. "Help me move them. Cas had to touch Bobby's soul for power and they're both out now. Did you get the ashes?"

"No, we didn't," Sam admitted, kneeling down to help her lay them out.

"Damnit. What are you going to do now?" Angel asked, going to the cabinet to pull out a bottle of wine while the brothers attempted to make the others comfortable. A knock on the door surprised them. Sam went to answer while Angel helped Dean revive Bobby and Cas with the wine.

"We got the ashes," Sam informed them before setting the box down to help them move Cas to the couch and a quickly-recovering Bobby to his chair.

"At least it wasn't for nothing. Bobby should be okay soon. It might take Cas longer to recover," Angel told him, returning to her station at the table. She took out Sam's laptop to look for signs. "Do you have any idea where Eve might be?"

"She'll show herself soon enough," Dean reasoned, eyeballing the stash of liquor Angel had bought when they arrived. She tossed a bottle to him without looking.

"Yeah, but the sooner you find her, the better. There are some signs in Oregon that seem to point to her or some other big bad," Angel told him, browsing through her notes and Sam's. She turned around after a minute and frowned. "Sam, what's this article about Death you've been reading? Are you trying to hide from him?"

"It's just an article I ended up on through links," Sam answered, going over to close the computer.

"If this is about your fear of recovering your soul, sugar, you really shouldn't be worried. I made it millennia. You would be fine after a few years' worth of torture, love, especially with your brother to coach you through recovering," Angel assured him. He whispered something in her ear and she rolled her eyes. "Anyway, phoenix ashes, Eve—She has to eat them, right? How are we going to actually get her to consume them?"

"We'll worry about that later. Right now, we need to find out where she is and let Bobby and Cas heal," Sam informed her.

"Bobby'll be fine in a few hours. Cas didn't hurt his soul," Angel assured them before eyeing Cas. "Your pet angel's another story. It'll take a few days, maybe a week, before he'll be up to anything more than blinking at the ceiling. You were relatively far away and it didn't take a small amount of energy to bring you back. Another drop of soul juice would get him up and going, but letting him heal would work out better for stopping Eve."

"We'll wait, then," Dean decided.

"Good idea. A half-assed attempt isn't going to get us anywhere—even with asses as fine as these."

...

With Eve's defeat, priorities changed. Sam's soul became more important and Dean made a clever play of using Crowley's involvement to hide his true goal of returning Sam to normal. Sam continued searching for a way to hide from Death, despite Angel's warnings that it wouldn't work. An increase in demon and monster activity—thought to be sparked by Eve's death—kept them from achieving their goals quickly. It seemed like an all-out war was brewing and brewing fast. Even civilians seemed to be picking up on the tempest. Dean hated being forced to put Sam's soul on the back burner, but he seemed to have little choice. Their goal became searching for potential battlegrounds.

"Hmm, looks like there's a bean nighe terrorizing a small town in Missouri. Want to check it out?" Angel asked, searching the web on Sam's laptop.

"Bean nighe—isn't that like a banshee?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, they're considered a type of banshee. The mnathan nighe or washer women are seen washing graveclothes of the soon to die. Problem is, their clothes washing marks people for death, not the other way around. This bean nighe's been offing about a person every two or three days and the town's only got a population of four hundred and sixty," Angel explained. "It looks like there are demon signs in the area too. Sounds like our kinda place, eh, sugar?"

"We've gone further for less. What do you think, Dean?" Sam asked, taking the laptop from Angel to show his brother. Dean looked at the data before shooting a surprised look at Angel.

"That's good work. How'd you notice the signs?" he asked. Angel shot him a grin, curling up in her chair with a bottle of gin.

"I told you I'm the best, lover. If a bean nighe was all it took, you should've believed me when I found that incubus back in Vegas. Now _that_ was a feat worthy of my skill," she commented.

"That would've been much more convincing if you hadn't discovered it by sleeping with it," Sam remarked. Angel stuck her tongue out at him.

"All right, all right, that's enough. Let's not go commenting on who's slept with what monsters," Dean interjected. "Now, this town looks promising. Let's pack up and go. Sammy, you can research on the way."

"And my job is to…?" Angel asked, looking at the laptop greedily.

"…whine about boredom from the back seat the whole way," Sam quipped quickly. A pillow knocked him into his brother.

"You'd better _hope_ you stay useful, pet. I could get my liquor just as easily without hunting with you," Angel warned, standing up. "If we're going, you'd better pack. There's no guarantee the bean nighe's going to stay there much longer, even if there are all those demon signs around. I'm going on a liquor run. One bottle of whiskey's not going to get me there."

"I'll take you. Sam can pack," Dean offered, standing. As they were walking out the door, he explained, "Sam never gets good snacks. Last time, he bought me apples instead of M&Ms."

"He does it to bother you, y'know. At least, he does now that he's soulless. I imagine he did it before because he wanted to make you healthier," Angel offered. "Personally, human lives seem too short to me to waste opportunities for enjoyment. Hell, _my_ life's too short to worry about things like health and goodness and _I'm_ immortal. Bacchus is more my god more than Minerva."

"Not a fan of the big guy upstairs either?"

"Daddy Dearest? Oh, yeah, there's a real winner."

...

"Left!" Angel shouted. Sam dove to the left, barely missing the demon's blade. Dean stabbed it before turning back to his own fight. It was down to five demons against the three, a fight they could easily manage. They allowed themselves to be cornered, Angel's quick work providing each of the brothers with a second knife. The demons, seeing how the fight had changed, tried to flee, but Sam, Dean, and Angel made sure they would bother no one again. "That was almost boring, eh, lovers?"

"Speak for yourself," Sam returned, examining a deep gash on his arm. Angel glanced at it.

"You know what would help that? Vodka," she remarked, taking off her blood-soiled jacket and dropping it carelessly onto the ground. "There's little it can't help."

"Like alcoholism," Sam commented. Dean and Angel shared a look over how annoying Sam was and Sam, seeing he was outnumbered, shook his head and headed toward the exit. "Come on. Let's feed your personal demons."

"At least our personal demons don't involve _actual_ demons," Angel stated, pretending to cough. Sam shot a knife back at her, catching her square in the chest. She pulled it out with a frown. "Really?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you prefer this one?" Sam asked drily, holding up an angel blade. Angel gave Dean an impatient look.

"He's always showing off his blades. At least you have more sense about how to impress a girl, pet," she commented. Dean laughed, taking the offered blade from Angel's hand and putting it away theatrically. "See? You could take some advice from your brother, Sam. Although your ass will _never_ be _quite_ as fine as his, so you may need to use other methods to impress."

"So we can't show off our blades, but we _should_ show off our asses?" Dean asked. Angel nodded and continued walking.

"If that's the case, why don't we all go to the bar tonight and see who's better at scoring?" Sam suggested drily. Angel grinned and looked at Dean, who seemed worried.

"Oh, don't worry, he probably won't remember any of this when he gets his soul back, sugar. Let him have fun," Angel reasoned. "Besides, he's already been enough of a man-whore that a few more won't hurt anything. From what I've heard, you've been known to get around yourself."

"There's an understatement," Sam remarked.

"As if either of you compared with me. Don't be so petty, darling," Angel commented, strutting to the Impala. Sam rolled his eyes. "I know you rolled your eyes, pet. Don't forget who has access to your laptop."

"You're too dependent on it to hurt it," Sam retorted. Angel shot him a dangerous grin.

"But not to encrypt it," she answered.

"We'd better get to a bar before I have to kill her, Dean," Sam said drily as he climbed into the car. Angel laughed from the back seat.

"Rather, you'd better get him to a bar before all those pent up emotions cause him try something he'd regret," she corrected.

"I'm going to the bar so I can deal with you two, sheesh," Dean muttered good-naturedly. Angel kissed Dean on the cheek and made a face at Sam.

"That's why he's my favorite," she commented. Sam raised one eyebrow, unwilling to give any more hints than that, and Angel smiled radiantly. Playing them off each other was one of her favorite pastimes and Sam was always ready to argue.

...

"—to complete that portion of the—I didn't expect you to seek me out," Crowley remarked, pausing in his instructions once he realized he had been summoned to a seedy hotel. He made a motion with his phone to ask if he needed to end his call and Angel nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you need?"

"About thirty tons of pure ethanol, the population of a small town, Daddy Dearest's head on a spike. Take your pick," she answered mock-cheerfully before motioning toward the chairs. "Sit down so we can talk."

"How long is this going to take? I have other obligations," Crowley commented impatiently. Angel smiled at him, reminding him who had the power in the situation.

"None more important than listening to me, as you well know. I need to know why you kept sending demons to possess Christian. You're welcome, by the way, for the latest's success," Angel informed him. "It's been bothering me and I don't like to be bothered by such boring, silly things."

"I needed information and an easy way to watch the family. Something felt off in their dealings," he answered, looking at her pointedly. She nodded.

"Yes, they worked to keep me a secret as I instructed, although they certainly didn't like me, did they? That's not all the information you needed or you would've just asked or tortured one of them," Angel pointed out. Crowley sighed. Her resumption of power over him was not something he had ever wished to occur. It made him recall his own foolishness in their early dealings. "You may as well tell me everything, lover. I've been patient long enough."

"I needed more details about what they were discovering. My partner and I wanted as much information as possible and a strategically placed possession could more than accomplish that," he informed her, taking the glass of whisky she offered.

"Partner?" she prompted. He looked at her straight in the eye for the first time, holding her gaze.

"Yes. Castiel," he answered. Angel laughed, the sound so natural Crowley doubted if anyone less familiar with her would catch the surprise in it.

"You bastards! Now that's the strangest set of bedfellows I ever expected to see. It certainly makes why he didn't kill me make more sense. The brothers have softened him to the point that he's willing to work with you. How much worse could it be to hire me to their side?" Angel mused.

"He tried to kill you?" Crowley asked, mildly surprised. He thought the angels would surely have found out about her particular skills and tried to win her over. She wasn't known as Poena and Delicia for nothing.

"Only half-heartedly. A blade to my throat, a few questions. His pet humans interfered on my behalf," Angel answered easily. "It ruined a good bottle of bourbon, though. Shattered it all over the ground. I had to drink _beer_."

"How terrible," Crowley sympathized drily.

"So, back to the important bit. Why are you and Castiel working together? Is this really about Purgatory or is it about something else?" Angel asked. Crowley glanced at his phone. He was going to be late to a torturing he had set up. Angel noticed the look and rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot that you're _King of Hell_ now. You're probably too busy to waste your time on me."

"I would rather be elsewhere, but I will answer your questions," Crowley answered, ensuring she understood exactly where they stood. Angel watched him for a moment before shaking her head.

"Come back tomorrow at this time and you can answer the rest of my questions. I can be reasonable. I hope you can do the same," she remarked, a familiar glint in her eye warning him not to disappoint her. "And, of course, I expect you not to breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Of course. I'll bring some of my favorite tomorrow to make up for the bourbon you lost to Castiel," Crowley informed her, standing up.

"How kind of you, pet. Just remember that flattery will get you nowhere," Angel warned, stretching lazily. Crowley popped out of the room to return to his obligations. Angel, on the other hand, resumed her drinking, glancing at the clock and nodding to herself just as the Winchesters returned. Her timing was impeccable, as always. They would have no idea that she'd met with Crowley or learned anything about his involvement with Castiel.

"You haven't finished that bottle yet?" Sam commented. Angel rolled her eyes.

"Dean, want a glass? It's good and I share good things with my _friends_ ," she offered, pouring the glass before he answered. Dean threw himself into the seat Crowley had so shortly vacated and accepted the glass. "You'd better get back to researching, Sam. Now that the bean nighe's gone, we need to move out—and sooner rather than later. There are some husbands and wives that aren't very happy with me in this town."

"Imagine that. Did you sleep with all of their spouses or did you leave one or two just to confuse them?" Sam asked mockingly.

"As if you didn't sleep with at least thirty women in the three weeks we've been here. I would know. There were a few I slept with too and, let me tell you, did they complain about you," Angel retorted easily. Dean choked on his bourbon and began coughing.

"Funny. I heard complaints about you," Sam answered. They glared at each other, their impromptu competition temporarily heated. Finally, Angel shrugged and smiled.

"We both know we're lying. Let's not fight over something that isn't even true, eh, sugar?" Angel suggested, offering a truce. Sam nodded imperceptibly, accepting it. Angel turned to Dean and handed him a refilled glass of bourbon. "You all right, pet? You're still red in the face."

"I'm fine," Dean assured her, glancing at her and Sam before downing the whisky. It bothered him to see Sam's increase in uncharacteristic behavior and he knew that it would only get worse until he got Sam's soul back. He knew he needed to connect with Death sooner rather than later. He wondered if Angel could help, but dismissed the idea. She was too blasé about his torture and outcomes to help him keep Sam as safe and whole as possible. He knew he would have to do this part on his own.

...

"Hmm. There's a face I haven't seen for centuries," Angel commented as she sat down at the restaurant's counter. Sam and Dean looked at her like she was crazy. "Death, why don't you remove the ring, pet, so they can see you?"

"Very well," Death replied, appearing in the seat beside Angel. "It has been long since we last met. I hope that was due to an improvement in your conditions."

"Daddy tried to kill me less, if that's what you mean, but 'improvement' is too much of an exaggeration. I adapted," Angel answered him. "You look well, though. Has being Death treated you well?"

"It gives me the chance to travel. I am here to meet Dean, for instance. I chose this spot due to the breakfast special they prepare," Death answered, glancing up at the menu.

"Ah, a soul-talk, eh? I hope they've got some alcohol hiding in the back somewhere," Angel muttered, trying to peer into the kitchen. She stood up and motioned for Dean to switch seats with her. She turned her attention to Sam in an attempt to distract him and give Death and Dean a chance to talk. She was curious how they would handle the whole situation.

"I'm not going to sit here while you two discuss getting my soul back without my permission. I don't want it. You know how dangerous it would be, Dean," Sam declared, standing. "Angel will help me block your attempts, right, Angel?"

"Sorry, lover, but there's not much I could do if they're determined. Perhaps if you convinced Cassie boy to help as well, but I can't protect you on my own," Angel replied, backing out of the fight. She wanted to see what would happen. She wondered if Sam would even survive long enough to know his soul was returned, let alone form a judgment on it. Sam stormed out, leaving Angel, Death, and Dean. Dean gave Angel a pleading look. "Oh, very well, I'll go try to calm him down. You know it won't work, right? He's not going to be okay with this."

"Yeah, I know. I've got to try it anyway, though," Dean informed her. Angel nodded and left to find Sam, pretending she understood even though she couldn't possibly understand the importance of a soul.

"As you know, I have the capability of recovering your brother's soul from Hell. What remains to be seen is if you have anything to offer in return," Death informed Dean, looking at him. Death remembered how old he was when he looked at Dean, at once so young and so old in his own right. Death pitied the boy and cared for him. He understood something of the pain of Dean's existence and wanted to let Dean know something of his. With that in mind, he proceeded to make an offer—an unprecedented offer that would shift the boy's reality for a day. Dean, eager to help his brother, accepted without really understanding. Death saw that and proceeded anyway. He wanted the boy to know.

...

"I won't help or hinder you. You do this of your own power and I have nothing to do with it," Angel remarked as she spotted Death and Dean walking up to Bobby's door.

"You bear no responsibility," Death assured her. Accepting his word, she opened the door and let them inside.

"Will you at least come with us? If he's physically injured by the process, could you heal him?" Dean asked. Angel went with them reluctantly. She wanted no part in their work, but she wanted Sam to survive, so she went to help if she could. She could feel Sam's soul from her proximity to Death and knew it wasn't going to be a pretty process.

"What do you intend to do?" she asked Death. He slowed his step to walk by her side, letting Dean go on ahead to Sam's room.

"I will return his soul and put up a mental barrier to block all memories between his soul's loss and now," Death informed her.

"His soul is damaged. It taints the air with a taste like ash—charry and bitter," Angel commented, uncomfortable around it. Some part of it was reaching out to her—feeling her own experience in Hell—and she didn't like the feelings and memories it revived.

"Yes. That is why the mental barrier is key. He would go insane or die without it," Death told her quietly, watching her. He had been called to the Cage enough times in the early days to know that, whatever Sam's soul had gone through, it was nothing compared to the torment of the little angel he once knew. The fact that her torture had the strength to release him from his chains and return him there on more than one occasion was enough to prove it to him.

"The barrier won't last," Angel pointed out practically. Death shrugged.

"I have explained that, but Dean will not listen. He wants his brother back and I will help him. Perhaps the strength of his devotion will see them through," Death answered. Angel shook her head.

"No. If he survives, it will be by his own power. Dean knows that, although he was only tortured by Alistair. No one recovers from the worst of torture with help. It always has to be alone. He hopes his brother is strong enough. He doesn't have the perspective we have—although your perspective may be different than mine after all," Angel remarked, looking at Death. Something in her voice had softened and Death remembered the little one that had cried and begged to die. He remembered being unable to reap her and being forced to leave her at her brother's demented mercy.

"Indeed," Death murmured as he entered Sam's room. Sam was asleep, making the process easier. Death ensured he would not wake before opening his case and returning the boy's soul. Angel shook her head. Sam began to flail and Death looked to Angel, motioning for her assistance.

"I will protect his body while you see to his soul, but on your heads be it," she agreed, sitting at the edge of the bed. She placed her hands on Sam's back and whispered something the others didn't catch. Sam grew still, allowing Death to work on him. When Death was finished, he warned them to keep Sam from trying to find out the truth, as the barrier he erected was not permanent and would fall from attention. Dean accepted his word and Death vanished.

"How is he?" he asked once Death was gone.

"Physically, he'll be sore. His soul tried to transfer some of its pain to his body, but Death recalled as much of it as possible and blocked it off. He's going to sleep for hours or days now. Let him if you want him to be as okay as possible," she informed him, looking up at Dean when she was finished. "His soul is badly broken and he will one day know it. If you care for him, you better hope it's capable of healing."

"I'll do everything I can to help it."

...

"What does Cassie darling think of Sam's soul being returned? He argued against it enough," Angel asked, looking across the table at Crowley with a dark expression.

"He was against it. He's the reason Sam returned without it in the first place," he pointed out. Angel nodded.

"Yes, you did hint at that before. What _I_ want to know is why? Why bring the boy back as an automaton when any other human could've been given the correct knowledge to help Castiel? Hell, a demon could've done it. Why go through so much effort to use the Winchester boy?" Angel thought aloud. Crowley shrugged.

"Familiarity? Angelic weakness?" he offered. Angel snickered.

"'Angelic weakness.' If that isn't a phrase I never expected to hear. Castiel's too human in his emotions and mannerisms. Surely you've noticed that or you wouldn't have commented that way," Angel remarked. Crowley nodded.

"He would give up his Grace if the right deal was offered," he commented.

"Like a human giving up its soul—except with more knowledge of the consequences," Angel added. "They're all such a disappointment. I always expect more, but they all prove to be so soft. Ah—I see that expression. Are your remembering your own foolish softness or my feigning of it? It was never anything personal, you know."

"Yes, I am aware. You were obeying orders," Crowley said. His mind went back, as hers did, to their first meeting. Crowley knew how good of an actress the woman could be. He had never met a better and he knew that whoever managed to get her true allegiance in the newest fight of angels had a good chance of winning. It was one of the main reasons he was working so hard to stay on her good side.

"And now you're obeying the orders of a different angel—a respectable leader of one, even. Well, the others think he's respectable. You've given me enough dirt to know otherwise," Angel mused, smiling to herself. "I just want to know his purposes for my current employers. I do hate to have to stage unexpected rescues."

"Why are you working with them? I don't buy the 'keep Lucifer in the Cage' spiel," Crowley asked as casually as he could. Angel shrugged and smiled. He recognized it as a sign of danger.

"They're searching for Daddy Dearest and I want answers. Is that such a surprise? The angel-turned-abomination wants to ask why. What do you think that says about her, Crowley? Does it show weakness or does she just want to torture God for what he allowed?" Angel asked, moving to sit on the arm of Crowley's chair. She leaned around him, noting his nervousness with pleasure.

"I don't know. You would hardly let your motives be known and I couldn't guess," he answered, uncomfortable with her proximity. He remembered the last time they were close and shuddered internally. It was not a pleasant memory. Angel sat up and motioned for him to get up.

"I've tortured you enough for one evening. Go and remember not to tell brother Cassie anything we spoke about—although I think it would cause as much harm to you as it would stir up trouble for me," she instructed. Crowley thought it was her truest statement of the day and nodded, popping out of the room. Angel took the seat he vacated and picked up the bottle of scotch he had brought. She smiled in remembrance of their earlier days, her ruthlessness a source of inspiration that reminded her she could accomplish whatever she needed to now. She knew she could do whatever she wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me, just my character Angel and bits of the plot.**

...

When Sam's eyes opened again, they were the brighter eyes of a hopeful boy instead of the hard eyes of a soulless hunter. Angel observed from the doorway as Sam and Dean reunited. She wondered how Dean would explain the time gap, the change in the world and their friends, and her own addition to the team, but decided that it didn't matter. She wouldn't walk on eggshells no matter what the older boy decided to pay her. She was hired for hunting demons and monsters, not coddling little siblings. She left them to their reunion in silence, sickened by their semblance of happiness.

"He's awake," she informed Bobby as she passed him in the living room. "I'm going out. Call if I'm needed."

She was not, of course, needed and found her way to an empty field. She didn't want to be around other sentient beings. She wanted to be alone. She laid down in the field and closed her eyes like a human would. After a few minutes, she found the silence to be too much and teleported herself to a club in the nearest big city. A few drinks, a bit of dancing, and she felt more like herself as her intended companions began eating out of the palm of her hand. She closed her mind to the brothers she had left as well as to time. The sight of a reaper across the room brought her down from her self-induced high when she realized the man she had been wooing was about to die. She teleported back to the field where she started.

She didn't see that Death had been watching her and that he had been considering the merits of ending her life for her. He knew she didn't want to live, but there was a certain desperation about a hopeless creature that lead to unpredictable events. He wondered if she realized how very young she was and how much her perceived future could change, but decided that she couldn't know. She held too much anger and hurt to be old enough to understand. Death knew that with age came sad resignation and nothing more. Angel's desperate hatred was the cry of a newborn, as plaintive to Death's ears as the screaming of Sam's blocked off soul.

...

"I don't normally deal in information, but there's something I think you ought to know," Angel stated as she entered the living room. Her response to their surprised and curious stares was to pick up a bottle, look in it to see what was left, and throw herself onto the couch, her legs blocking Sam's access to his laptop keyboard.

"What information?" Sam asked, keeping his arms to his sides away from her. She threw her legs to the ground and sat up, looking at Dean.

"It's about your pet angel Castiel, although you're unlikely to believe it," she informed them. She set the liquor bottle beside her to stress her seriousness. "I know you've been getting suspicious. I have some answers. The question is: are you ready to hear them? And, remember, I may not be willing to share what I know forever, especially for such a low price."

"What's the price?" Dean hazarded, looking at her closely.

"Ah, that's where the deal turns sweetest. My price is simple: be prepared to stop him to the best of your ability if I deem it necessary. If I judge you correctly, you will be anyway. What do you say? It's such a little price—nothing more than a little possibility and certainly free to interpretation," she offered, her voice dripping with a mixture of sweetness and danger.

"We agree," Sam answered after meeting his brother's gaze. They knew any information Angel had would be worth the price—especially such a simple one.

"Each of you swear it on your brother's soul," Angel instructed. The boys looked at each other for a moment, but ultimately obeyed. Her deal didn't hold them to success in stopping Castiel and they had never had cause to doubt her judgment before. "Good. Dean, sit down over here by me. I want both of you within reach when I share this in case you need to be stopped. You can't charge Castiel or Crowley or anyone else over this."

"Castiel or Crowley?" Sam asked. Angel nodded as Dean joined them on the couch.

"Let me explain and you'll understand, sweet roll. You know that Crowley has been hunting monsters to learn about the location of Purgatory. You thought it was because he wanted it and, although not _wrong_ , the idea wasn't _right_ either. He has a partner—Castiel. They're working together to tap into the power of Purgatory. For what, I don't yet know. Crowley doesn't seem to know entirely and, although torturing him is as appealing as always, our need for an informant is greater. Our best course of action would be to keep what we know secret, behave as if we've no idea, and watch. Do you think you can manage that, my pets, or will I need to keep you from remembering?" Angel asked.

"We can pretend," Dean agreed. Sam nodded in acceptance and Angel smiled, replacing her previously grim expression.

"Good. That's all the information I had to share. I hope, for all our sakes, that Castiel isn't planning something extremely foolish. I will strengthen myself in the interim just in case, as you ought to do. The fate of the universe may well rest in our hands and I, for one, don't want a half-crazy angel—which Castiel is quickly becoming—in charge of it," Angel informed them. They were silent in thought for a long moment. "Now, where did that bottle of gin go? I need something to make me feel less responsible. It's sickening."

...

Sam, Dean, and Angel stayed close to Bobby as the battle between monsters and demons heated up. Castiel became more and more distant. Through Angel, they learned that the demons were getting more information they needed. Castiel's plan was coming to a close, though none knew what that would bring. Angel insisted on gathering what weapons could be found. She had left the hunters working on that to go for a liquor run downtown. As she walked, she knew more information was needed if they were going to do anything. Taking the phone of a random passerby, she put in a quick call.

"Crowley, what about a chat? Are you free to meet me at Bobby's?" Angel asked as soon as she heard the line connect.

"When?" Crowley asked.

"Soon. Tonight around seven, perhaps, lover? The brothers and Bobby should be back by then and I want them to listen in. Besides, then you get to catch up with Bobby. I've seen the picture of you two kissing," Angel remarked.

"Yes, we had a previous deal. I may not be free until seven-thirty. I have a meeting with the angel," Crowley answered her. Angel nodded, noticing that the individual she had pickpocketed had realized his phone was missing and was looking around.

"Good. Find out what you can about his end-plan without being suspicious, pet. I need more information. We can talk after I send the humans to bed if we have to," she told him, ending the call. She dropped the phone and kept walking. She needed to do some recon on her own before the meeting.

...

Crowley had been expecting an information session request. He'd worked hard to make both angels happy to protect himself as Angel set herself against Castiel. He knew neither would protect him more than necessary if the other went against him, but even that bit of protection was better than outright angering one alone. As it was, he knew he was risking the wrath of Cas if the angel discovered how much he had shared already. Thankfully, being an ambitious and dastardly double agent was nothing new to him. So it was that, when Angel hung up, he dialed another number.

"What is it?" Castiel asked.

"We've got another Alpha. This one seems to know something, but won't talk," Crowley informed him, popping into the room with the monster. Castiel joined him almost instantly. The location services on modern phones made interspecies cooperation less worrisome for all parties involved.

"What have you tried so far?" he asked.

"Torture, promises of freedom, any number of bribes. It won't talk," Crowley replied. Castiel approached the shapeshifter slowly. "Can you get the information out of it?"

"Yes," Castiel answered. Almost instantly, the shifter began shrieking in pain. "Yes, good. This is information I can use."

"Do I need to have more captured?" Crowley asked after a few moments of relative silence. The shifter's head had already lolled to the side with a look he recognized well from many similar scenes.

"Yes. Continue to find more. I almost have enough information," Castiel replied before popping out of the room. Crowley directed a demon to revive the shifter. It was delirious enough that it answered his questions without need of further torment. Crowley learned as much as Castiel, realizing that the angel had to be very near to knowing everything any earth-bound being could possibly share. When he had gleaned all the information possible, he told the demon to clean everything up and popped to another room—this one surrounded by enough Enochian sigils to keep it from being identified by an army of angels doing a grid search.

"What do you want?" the mad angel he had captured demanded.

"You know that already," Crowley answered, watching the angel struggle against its bonds. He mused that, even if it could break free, it would have nowhere to go. It was trapped in the room by a holy oil circle, its wings had been extracted, and most of its higher powers had been repressed or even destroyed by the work he had done on it. The angel spat at him, foaming at the mouth. Crowley reminded himself to thank Lucifer for the idea of trapping an angel into a physical form before he killed him. It worked wonders for learning.

...

"Take a shot and then we'll talk," Angel instructed, setting a glass in front of Dean. "If we want this talk to be successful, we're going to need to be honest—or at least mostly honest."

"Fine. Take your shot," Dean agreed, motioning to the empty glass on the table. They took their shots and sat down, refilling their glasses. "Now, what is it?"

"There are some… _theories_ …about Castiel's end game—one theory, really. If it's right, he's going to have to be stopped and it's not going to be pretty," Angel informed Dean before they both emptied their second glasses. She paused for a long moment. She needed the alcohol to kick in before she shared such more. An inebriated Dean would be easier to manage. She felt like half a liquor store wouldn't help her to cope with her suspicions. "How much do you know about Castiel? I've been assured that you're the closest one to him."

"He's an angel, he got punished by heaven once or twice, after Michael was gone, he took on Raphael for control of Heaven," Dean replied. "He cares about humans more than he's supposed to. That's one of the reasons he's been punished."

"That's bad. If I know desperate angels well enough, Castiel's going to do something very, very foolish to try to protect the humans," Angel commented, taking the refilled glass Dean handed her and downing it. For once, Dean saw what looked like fear on her face. He downed his own glass.

"What do you think he's plannin'?" he asked.

"He's going to become God—or try to anyway," Angel answered, looking him in the eye with a vulnerable expression. Two more glasses of liquor disappeared for each of them before she was willing to continue. "There's a lot of untapped power in Purgatory—I believe he's going to use it to make himself a pseudo-Supreme Being to eliminate Raphael and protect the humans since Daddy Dearest has gone silent. The problem is, it'll most likely drive him mad. A mad God isn't something we want to deal with—a mad angel's bad enough. I don't want that any more than you do. We're going to have to stop him."

"How do you know?" Dean asked, referring to all of the information she was sharing. Angel held her glass up, watching a drop fall lazily back into the bottom.

"Crowley, observations, my own intuition—it isn't some fool's tale planted in my mind by the sandman. I didn't want to suspect it and I don't want to believe it now," she answered, setting her glass down. "We don't have many good options either, sugar. We'd have a chance of killing him now while he's just a powerful seraphim, but then the angels would likely turn against us. Raphael would probably use it to gain Castiel's forces and then we'd have the whole host of heaven after us.

"We can't even know for sure if we've got his plan right before we kill him. That wouldn't bother me—there's no love lost between us—but I know it would hurt you as his friend and I would need your unconditional support. He's a powerful seraphim. It's not a surprise that it's down to him and Raphael now. When we take him on, it's going to be a hard fight and trickery's going to be our best bet. The blade always goes in smoother from the hand of a friend.

"We still have another option, of course—we can wait until he shows his hand. The problem with that is that he may not show it until he makes his final move and hulks up into the universe's newest demiurge, ready to guide and maintain it all. Therein lies the problem. If he gains that power, we may not be able to stop him at all. Lies don't work with an omniscient and the weapons available to us won't be capable of hurting an immortal of his capacity. We're more likely to perish than succeed in bruising him."

Dean drained the last of the liquor from the bottle before answering. Carefully, he asked, "What are the chances he'll go crazy? Is there a chance he won't?"

Angel sighed, "Yes, there's a chance. It's slim, though, Dean, and I don't think we should rest the fate of the universe on it. Of course, Raphael may do more damage if he controls the host of heaven than Castiel would as God. I don't know. I can't predict every possible future. As it is, my mind's busy running a few hundred possible scenarios. I can't control for every variable. What we need is a prophet."

"I can help you there," Dean informed her, pushing away from the table to stand. The large amount of alcohol seemed to hit him at once and he fell back into the chair.

"Perhaps later. Right now, you should digest the information I gave you and the alcohol you drank," Angel suggested. Dean nodded and let her help him back to the living room couch. "Share what you want with the others when they get up, but remember that Cassie boy can't suspect anything. I'm headed out."

"Later," Dean answered, nodding. Angel knew the depressant she had slipped into his drinks would put him out for a few hours. A terrible smile spread across her face as she went outside to walk to the nearest liquor store. She wondered if there was enough alcohol in the world to put her out. As it was, it took gallons to take away the very edge of her desperation so she could work clearly. She marveled at the people her life had become so entangled with. They believed in each other so much—and they were gaining so much faith in her. She knew it was their youth that made them so.

Millennia had taught her better. She knew it was foolish to believe in anyone.

...

"Shit, this is bad," Angel muttered after glancing out the window. "Boys, we've got trouble coming. Demons—the whole town. Grab your weapons—fast!"

"Are you trying to tell us the whole _town_ 's possessed?" Bobby demanded as the four scrambled for the closest weapons. The front door blowing in answered his question before Angel could.

"Did Crowley betray us?" Dean asked. Angel managed to shrug in the midst of the fight. A glance outside stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," she muttered. "It's not just demons! If I'm not mistaken, I just saw an archangel impact at the edge of town. Get to the safe room!"

"How?" Sam demanded, hardly able to spare a glance as the small army filled the house, overwhelming the four.

"Like this," Angel announced, transporting them all to the safe room. "Dean, we're going to need that holy fire now. Set it up and fast. Sam, gather whatever weapons are in here to make sure we know what we have. Bobby, see what supplies you've got to keep the three of you alive. I don't know how long you're going to be trapped."

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, already gathering weapons. Bobby and Dean glanced at her as well.

"Me? I've got a call to make," she answered, grabbing her phone. She walked to the edge of the room for a modicum of privacy before dialing.

"Yes?" Crowley asked as the line connected.

"What the hell's going on, Crowley?" Angel demanded angrily. "The whole town's possessed and just attacked us and I know for a fact that there was a team of Hellhounds approaching."

"I don't know. It wasn't under my orders," he answered. "I'll check it out."

"Oh, you'd better do more than that, sugar. If they aren't gone in the next ten minutes, you'll know better than ever why I was known as Hell's greatest punishment," Angel seethed. A frantic knock on the safe-room door made everyone in the room pause. "I'll call you back."

"What was that?" Sam asked.

"Dean, be ready to put out the fire and relight it. Bobby, Sam, have your weapons ready. I'm pulling in whatever's knocking," Angel announced. Once everyone was in positions, they quickly went through the plan. A tired and frightened looking human male was the answer. "What the hell? You're not possessed or anything. Who are you?"

"Chuck!" Sam announced in surprise.

"You know this guy? God, I hope he's another hunter," Angel remarked, listening to the sound of nails on the far side of the door.

"He's the prophet I was telling you about," Dean informed Angel. Realization dawned on her face.

"That explains the archangel. The prophet was in danger, so the archangel was released. The question now is why is he here and who in Hell was stupid enough to waste so many demons and Hellhounds on such a hopeless attempt to get him," she wondered, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the man where he stood. He hadn't moved an inch from where Angel threw him.

"Chuck, this is Angel. Angel, this is Chuck. Now why don't you tell us why you're here?" Sam asked, helping the man up.

"I had a dream—one you guys needed to know about," Chuck informed them, glancing around. "Is there anything to drink around here?"

"Vodka, gin, scotch, bourbon, beer—what's your poison?" Angel asked, deciding she like the man, prophet or not. He shrugged, so Angel grabbed a bottle at random and handed it to him. He looked at her nervously and took a long drink.

"Sit down. You look like about to fall," Bobby instructed, pulling out a chair at the table. Chuck sat down, joined by the other humans. Angel stood beside the table, her arms still crossed over her chest.

"Now what's the dream that was so important?" Dean asked.

"It was about your friend Cas. I dreamed that he somehow gained so much power he was like God or something, but he was insane. I don't know how he got the power or what was going to happen, but he shot Sam across a room and I don't know if he survived it. Normally, I wouldn't seek you guys out over a dream, but this was one of the old dreams like I used to get and I knew I needed to tell you so you could stop it," Chuck explained.

"Did you mention it to anyone or write it down? Those demons are after you for a reason," Angel asked practically, not missing the look Dean shot her. The support to her dark theory was too much to ignore. Chuck's reluctance to answer was quickly overcome when Angel took a step toward him.

"Becky woke me up from it. She knew a nightmare like that was probably a vision and blogged about it despite my warnings," Chuck admitted.

"Good goin', Chuck," Dean chuckled. Sam and Angel made eye contact, both of them wondering if Dean would hi-five the prophet.

"All right, so now we just need to find out what demon with an internet connection would've decided to risk everything to find out more information," Angel commented drily.

"Has anybody else noticed there aren't any sounds coming from outside?" Bobby asked.

"You wanna go check it out for us, Angel?" Sam asked. She shrugged and he got up to put the holy fire back out again. She disappeared for half a minute before opening the safe house door, a liquor bottle in her hand.

"They're gone. The archangel must've wiped them out. He's still around somewhere, but he shouldn't interfere unless the prophet's in danger again," she informed them. She led the way upstairs, drinking heavily. Her phone rang as soon as she reached the living room. "Yes?"

"It's a rogue group—the last enemies to my ascendance to the throne. Are you still under attack?" Crowley asked, audible to the others.

"No, an archangel cleared it up. Did you know this was about a prophet?" Angel asked, throwing herself back onto the couch. The others couldn't hear his reply. "Yeah, it _was_ important. Whatever type of fool the human woman was, she was right about that…. No, nothing to do with you—directly anyway. What has Cassie boy told you about his end game and your part in it? … I know you don't believe him much, but I think you've been believing him too much, lover. You need to get out or it's going to go bad for you. God knows it's going to go wrong for all of us if he succeeds….Yeah, I can agree to that. Later, pet."

"So, what was that about?" Sam asked, the conversation with Crowley an uncomfortable reminder that the woman they were working with had a more than questionable past and that he was the one that had apparently decided to work with her anyway.

"It was an enemy of Crowley's that sent them all after you because of the blog you were talking about. Yes, I believe him—he's a fool, but he's not stupid enough to waste all those resources when an archangel's on the scene and he wouldn't take me on if there was a chance I would live. He doesn't know Castiel's game plan, but his suspicions are starting to mirror my own—are they really still only suspicions now that we've heard the prophet's dream? I saw the look you gave me, Dean. You know what this means," Angel said. Dean didn't answer her, avoiding everyone's expressions.

"What's going on, Dean?" Sam asked when the silence grew too much.

"We've got to stop Cas," Dean answered, reluctant to reach the decision despite knowing it was the only option. Angel took another long drink, already halfway through the large bottle.

"Um, am I part of this or can I go home? An army of demons was enough excitement for me for one day," Chuck asked. Angel opened one eye to look at him.

"I can take you home if your car isn't here," she offered. "I'm not taking on anyone today. Today's for oblivion."

"I can get home on my own, thanks. I'll let you guys know if anything else happens," Chuck told them, getting up to leave. Sam showed him to the door. Angel closed her eyes again, draining more of her drink. Dean explained the gist of the Castiel-must-die theory to Bobby before snagging Sam to go in search of a few weapons he'd heard rumors about. Bobby went to the kitchen to call some friends in the hope that one of them would know the whereabouts of something he didn't. Angel, left to her own devises, went instantly to a bar on the other side of the world and imbibed all of its booze before moving on to another.

...

The last thing Crowley expected when he went to Angel's location was to find her unconscious. The floor was littered with bottles and she was laying down on a bed, perfectly still, her face slack. Crowley cleared his throat in the hopes that it would make her wake up. It didn't. Even when he cautiously shook her shoulder, she didn't respond. He watched her for a long moment before removing the bottle in her hand and setting it on the ground beside her. Even though it was an odd, human weakness, Crowley placed her arm back onto the bed at a regular angle and got rid of the bottles around the room.

She stirred and Crowley froze before making the decision to return to his own house. He knew she would have no knowledge that he had been there. After all, she would think it was the humans that picked up after her, not King of Hell. He couldn't help but think of his own foolishness at leaving the one individual who knew his every weakness alive. She made him vulnerable in ways no other being before or after ever would and yet he had left her alive when she had no defenses against him.

He told himself it was because she was the one most likely to stop Castiel from destroying everything. After all, it was better to let one enemy take the other out rather than taking them both out oneself. He needed to conserve his efforts and, if he was lucky, the final fight would kill both of the angels anyway. He poured himself a glass of his finest scotch and took a seat. Angel was right about one thing. The day wasn't right for the fight. It was a day for drinking—whether it was for inducing stupor or savoring one last pleasure before all Purgatory broke loose.

...

"It's about to happen," Crowley said over the phone the second Angel answered.

"What do you mean?" she asked quickly.

"He's making his move today. He just informed me. Whatever you're planning, you should start implementing it," he answered. Angel let out a string of curses that would've made Crowley chuckle with their creativity any other day.

"Where's it going down? Never mind, you probably don't know yet. Stick with him. Whatever you do, don't get separated from him. I'll find you—if Castiel doesn't call his friends to witness his ascension anyway," Angel instructed.

"You'll know when to come if he doesn't," Crowley answered before ending the call. Angel ran downstairs to give the call to arms. Thankfully, Sam and Bobby were together in the kitchen.

"Be ready to implement the plan. It's going to be today. Where's Dean? Never mind, I can't bother about that now. One of you find him and get him ready. I've got to do some preparations of my own," Angel announced. "No, wait, Sam, you can help me. We need to catch an angel."

"What?" Sam asked, clearly confused. Angel grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him toward the door.

"If you want me to have a chance of stopping Cas, I'm going to need more power than I have on my own, sweet roll. Another angel's Grace will help more than bleeding half of Crowley's army, so we've got to try getting an angel first. Do you know any you could pray to?" she asked quickly, managing to get him outside. Sam shook his head. Angel, cursing, set up to pull the nearest angel to them. "As soon as I set this off, there should be an angel between us. Your job is to get its knife. I'll take care of the rest."

"Is this a good idea? Won't Cas know?" Sam asked. Angel gave him a glare and finished the summoning. Sam managed to get the angel's blade before Angel made a quick incision across its abdomen. The angel froze, unable to move.

"Sam, keep the angel from falling. I need to get the Grace quickly," Angel instructed. Sam kept the angel in place while she removed the angel's Grace into an emptied bottle. Another quick motion with her blade finished the angel. Angel sent Sam back to help Bobby while she went off to imbibe the Grace properly. She went to the field she had been frequenting and sat down with the bottle of Grace. Carefully, she made an incision deep enough to reveal her own Grace and then added that of the angel she'd killed. She sealed the skin back when she was done and closed her eyes.

At first, her Grace tried to reject the addition. She shook violently, growing so hot her Hell-ash body began to deform and liquefy. By strength of will, she kept herself together and forced the Graces to become one. She thought it would free her from the sHell she had been contained in, but instead the body merely returned to the way it had been before. She muttered a curse, but knew there wasn't anything more she could do if she was going to save the universe that had caused her so much pain. She walked back to the house.

"Are you all ready? He's going to make his move soon. Crowley's keeping me updated," Angel asked, going to the table to pick up her own weapons.

"Are you sure there's no other way?" Bobby asked. Angel and Dean shared a long look before Dean shook his head.

"We've got to stop him," Dean said.

"If we're lucky, we won't have to kill him," Sam added. Angel froze with a blade in her hand.

"We're about to find out. Crowley says it's about time," she informed them. Before she could transport them to the location, Sam and Dean disappeared. Bobby looked at her in confusion and she shook her head. "It wasn't me. He wants his friends there for his grand ascension. Crowley says he's explaining it to them. He thinks we should wait until he starts arguing with Dean—because we all know he will—before we join them. I agree with him. The distraction might give us the edge we need."

"How're you talking to him anyway?" Bobby asked. Angel smiled drily.

"Simple: he's praying to me," she answered. She looked at Bobby closely for a minute, analyzing her plan. She was uncertain if he would be much help—the more available to distract her, the harder it was going to be. However, she knew he wanted to be there and he would be another distraction for Castiel as well. She wondered if any of them knew she'd told them to suit up to comfort them. They were all distractions in her plan, nothing more. She thought that maybe, if they were lucky, they could slow Cas down long enough for her to stop him. Crowley's prayer informed her that it was time. She nodded to Bobby and made a slight motion with her hand.

...

To say that Castiel was surprised by his sister's appearance was an understatement. He had gone through many lengths to ensure that he could not be traced.

"Aw, why the long face, Cassie dear? Didn't you know that I would be the one to stop you from what you're doing?" Angel taunted, her red lips pouting attractively.

"You cannot stop me now. The process has begun," he informed her. The red pout turned to a dry expression as Angel rolled her eyes.

"You aren't cut out to be God, lover. At least Daddy Dearest wasn't driven mad by his own power. You will be," she stated, taking a step toward him. The moment she did, Sam and Dean shared a look and began approaching Cas slowly. Cas, noticing despite his attention toward Angel, waved his hand backward and sealed the two in place. A similar motion froze Bobby as well.

"I would prevent what was done to you if I succeed. You would never have been harmed," Castiel informed her. Angel continued walking toward him without pause.

"Then I would've never learned how to be the greatest punishment and highest pleasure in the universe, pet. I like the power Hell gave me," she answered. Cas seemed to consider her words before turning suddenly to Crowley. Crowley fell to the ground, writhing.

"You betrayed me to her," Cas stated in some surprise. Angel laughed.

"Is it really betrayal to save the fucking world, Castiel? You're going to cause harm—a lot of it—and I can't let that happen," she stated. Drawing on the strength she had stolen as well as her own, she broke the connection between Castiel and Crowley, forcing Cas's power back onto himself. Angel knew in that moment that it was too late. Cas gave her a look that chilled her to the core.

"That power isn't yours," he said. Angel made a desperate lunge at him with an angel blade and was thrown suddenly backward. Her back arched where she was suspended and she shrieked in pain. As much as it had hurt to add the new Grace, removing it was another world to itself. Her shriek turned to hysterical laughter.

"Is that all you've got, brother? You always were weaker than Daddy. Now _that_ 's an angel that knows his own power. Of course, you always were afraid to claim your rightful heavenly powers, weren't you?" she taunted. Castiel closed his fist and her laughter turned to a scream again.

"Cas, leave her alone. We're trying to protect the universe, just like you," Dean pleaded. Castiel turned toward him, not loosening his hold on Angel.

"I will be able to protect it and _fix_ it, Dean. I will be a new God—a better God—and I will make a better universe," Cas stated.

"It won't be the same. This universe may be messed up, but it's the only one we know. Humans thrive on that. They couldn't live in a better universe," Dean argued. As Castiel thought, his power slipped enough that Angel fell to the ground. He trapped her where she fell, but he no longer tortured her. Crowley, nearby, helped her to her feet. As she stood, she began to shake. She was going to end it—or at least herself in the attempt.

 _Keep him distracted, Dean_ , she thought frantically to the boy across from her. His eyes widened with her connection. Castiel turned toward her angrily, catching the thought. A power Angel hadn't expected suddenly filled her. Like a clap of thunder, everything changed. A bright light blinded them all. When Angel could see again, they were all laying in the field outside Bobby's that she frequented so often. Angel was the only one conscious when they arrived. Shaking now without the extra power, she glanced around and breathed a sigh of relief. Castiel was normal—better yet, his own power was drained.

Angel felt herself losing consciousness again and fought it as fiercely as she had ever fought anything. She would need to be ready to face her brother when he woke. He wasn't going to be happy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me, just my character Angel and bits of the plot.**

...

"Well, if you ever wanted to draw a mustache on a demon or an angel, now's your chance," Angel informed Sam drily as he began to wake up. The other humans were already up and about. Castiel and Crowley were the last two unconscious—mostly due to their proximity to the blast.

"What happened?" Sam asked, holding his head. Angel shrugged.

"Not sure. It hurt a Hell of a lot, whatever it was," she answered, helping Sam to stand up. "Your brother's in the kitchen. Bobby's laying down. I'm serious about the mustache thing, though, pet. Neither of them would wake up."

"Thanks, but I'll pass. How long was I out?" he asked.

"You? A full week. Your brother was out five days and Bobby only got up a few hours ago," she informed him. "I was the only one that stayed conscious. I'm a bit surprised by it, to be honest. Cas and Crowley were the nearest two and they're in bad shape. Serves them right, as far as I'm concerned. That was a stupid thing to try."

"Are you okay? The last thing I remember is you screaming. God, you sounded like you were in pain," Sam asked, concerned. Angel laughed.

"That was nothing, pet. Castiel isn't as cruel or creative as his brother. If he doesn't recognize his stupidity and apologize when he wakes up, he's going to find out just how frightening I can be, though," she muttered. "Go see your brother and eat something. Everyone's drained and God knows what challenge is going to crop up next."

"Thank you, Angel. You didn't have to go through all that effort to save us," Sam thanked sincerely.

"Eh, don't mention it. I'll make sure I'm paid back before the end."

...

It was another week before Castiel woke up. When he did, it was to find his sister sitting on a chair beside his bed, watching him closely.

"Morning, sunshine. It's about time you got your lazy ass up," Angel said. Castiel felt like he'd been used as the fuel source for a supernova and then been spat back out of the resulting black hole. Nonetheless, Angel made him angry and defensive.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"What do I _want_? The end of the universe at the hands of a madman—oh, wait, that's what I _prevented_ ," she answered sarcastically. Castiel found it difficult to keep his eyes open.

"I would have fixed the universe. You would have never been harmed," he informed her.

"Yeah, you said that already. The problem is you wouldn't be able to fix it. You would've caused more harm than good—you have already. Sam's mental barrier is weaker, thanks to the power that was radiating off you. Bobby's heart troubles are worse. Dean hasn't been sober in a week. More importantly, I lost my new lipstick," she answered. Castiel struggled to process her words through the pain in his mind.

"How did you stop me? I could feel your life in my hand. I could've killed you with a thought," he asked. Angel shrugged.

"I don't know. If I had to guess, I would say Daddy Dearest didn't like your plan. That power was nothing so weak as an angel's or a demon's," she answered. "Why he would waste his time empowering me instead of just stopping you is beyond me, but that's my best theory. Oh, and, trust me, I'm not any happier about that particular line of thought than you are. I do hate being used."

"That is at odds with what Crowley told me about your position in Hell," Castiel stated, trying to see beyond the flickers of light before his eyes. Angel laughed outright.

"Telling stories, was he? Pet must not remember his own position," she remarked. "Truly, though, I was never used by the population of Hell. That was the other way around."

"No, not the demons. Lucifer. He used you and you worshipped him for it," Castiel answered. Angel stood up, enraged, and stepped toward the door.

"Don't say that. I'll kill you. You and Crowley and all your little friends. Don't you dare say that," she seethed, fleeing the room. Castiel noted that she hadn't denied it before the spots of light turned to shadow and pulled him back into unawareness.

...

Angel disappeared after the incident with Castiel. They tried to contact her, but nothing worked. Castiel suggested forgetting about her, angering the household. Crowley, more wisely, suggested leaving her to her own devices. She'd saved the universe she hated, going so far as to protect others personally, and it wasn't going to be easy for her to accept that. The angel and the demon couldn't flee like she had. They had no choice but to stay due to their weakened states. It created an odd atmosphere in the house. Anger at Castiel and gratitude to Crowley did not come naturally to any of them.

"Has anyone ever told you your taste in scotch is terrible, moose?" Crowley muttered after Sam handed him a glass. Crowley had been mainly confined to the bed where Angel had put him, but he had recovered enough to walk downstairs, although he typically avoided the living room, where Castiel often ended. Sam looked across the kitchen table in disbelief.

"It'll be holy water next time if you don't stop complaining," Dean stated in passing as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. "God knows we all want you gone."

"Whose fault is it that I'm still here, then, squirrel?" Crowley asked, mildly amused. Sure, he had caused them trouble before, but he couldn't help but think their hatred was a bit petty. Dean glanced at Sam. "Ah, the moose."

"Hey, I'm as eager for you to go as everyone, but what's fair is fair. You helped Angel save us so we'll help you recover. Once you're able to get out of here, we'll be even," Sam said, not looking up from his laptop screen.

"Wouldn't that be for me to decide? I'm the one that saved your filthy hides from your own friend," Crowley challenged.

"Sure, if you weren't such an ass. _I_ 'm convinced our debt to you ended the moment you woke up and we told you what was going on," Dean answered.

"To think that I _saved you_ by _praying_ ," Crowley muttered.

"From the way she treats you, I'd say you've been 'praying' to her for a long time," Dean suggested. He hadn't missed the look that got in Crowley's eyes sometimes—or the malicious smile he always seemed to spark in Angel. Crowley downed the terrible scotch and set the glass on the table.

"Unlike you uncultured swine, squirrel, I don't discuss that particular type of history, but, even if she and I _did_ have one, why would it matter to you? Are you hoping to find a new shrine to worship? I thought Our Heavenly Castiel was your newest challenge," he countered, his eyes hard as he met Dean's.

"Whoa, Dean and Cas? Gross," Sam interrupted, making them both glance at him. "I think your brain got injured in the blast, Crowley. Anyway, you'd better get that beer in there to Bobby. He's been alone with Cas for almost twenty minutes now and you know how Cas has been."

"Right. Better rescue him."

...

When Castiel returned to heaven, he was very confused. Raphael had gone missing. It wasn't known where he went or if he was even alive, so his side of the battle had crumpled. Unfortunately, so had Castiel's. His absence had disenchanted his followers just the same—especially as rumors began to surface about his involvement with demons. For now, the host of heaven was prepared to let the humans decide the trouble with the apocalypse. God was still silent and, after all the trouble their civil war had given them, they decided collectively that they didn't want so much responsibility anymore. They were beginning to understand why God went silent. Running the Earth was Hell.

Castiel, uncertain what to do, roamed the heavens in search of guidance. Seeking revelation yielding nothing. God wasn't interested in talking to him at the moment. That wasn't unexpected, though. Castiel had sought revelation on a whim. He knew the Big Guy Upstairs was unlikely to answer him, especially after the stunt he tried to pull with Purgatory. He was alone. With the range of emotions he had adopted from the humans, he found his profound aloneness to be uncomfortable. As he wandered, he wondered when his friends could be prevailed upon to accept him again. He decided it wouldn't be soon—he'd endangered them and treated the one who saved them terribly. He hoped they would forgive him at all.

...

"Whoa, bit unsteady," Angel murmured as she fell against Bobby's front door. She sank to the ground, reaching up with one hand to push the doorbell as she leaned against the door. She wondered if it had always sounded so funny and exactly how the house could manage to move and morph so much. Bobby opened the door after a minute and she fell through, banging her head on the ground. "Bobby. Liquor?"

"Balls," Bobby cursed after taking in her appearance. It was clear she was tripping out on something—or a lot of somethings given her angelic constitution and current state.

"Yeah, there are some green ones over there. Or was that grass? Do you have grass on your lawn or is it one of those dried up desert-y looking things? I can't remember," she muttered, one eye open. "What about that liquor?"

"A few hours of sleep is more like it," Bobby informed her.

"Can you offer that much stamina? I would've thought you would have issues at your age," Angel mumbled, closing her eye.

"Yeah, ain't we all full of surprises?" Bobby remarked drily, grabbing her underneath the shoulders to hoist her from the ground. Her eyes stayed closed and she didn't move. "God, I'm too old for this."

"Told you," she whispered, tempting Bobby to drop her deadweight back to the ground. Instead of dropping her, however, he lifted her enough that he could drag her over to the couch. He got her onto it, breathing heavily from the effort. She wasn't a big woman—in fact, she was rather on the slim side—but anyone's deadweight was more than Bobby cared to throw around at his age. This was the sort of crap the young hunters were supposed to deal with.

"You can stay there for now. I'll call the boys to see if they can come get you," Bobby informed her. He saw one of her eyes crack open a sliver and glance toward the kitchen. "And, for Christ's sake, I'll get your liquor."

"'preciated," she thanked tiredly. She felt herself slipping and knew she needed to add some other drug to the cocktail she had already taken if she was going to stay conscious. So it was that, when Bobby reentered the room, he found her injecting something into her abdomen.

"What the hell—?" he demanded, setting the liquor bottle on the table haphazardly as he went to stop her.

"Too late," she said in a singsong voice. It only took a few seconds for her to reach a stronger awareness of her surroundings. "That's better. No sleeping now. God, I hate being unconscious, but I hate being conscious too. Oh, good, you brought the liquor. That'll help with the consciousness bit."

"You aren't getting anything until you tell me what you've got in your system already," Bobby informed her.

"You name it, I've taken it. Nah, there are a few things you people don't know about yet that I've taken too. Don't worry—none of it can hurt me. I've got the cheap, knock-off brand imitation meatsuit, remember?" she reminded him. She reached for the liquor, but he kept it out of reach. She frowned, sighed resignedly, and stared at the ceiling. "I'll take more drugs if you don't give me the liquor—no, better yet, I'll inject Sam with them if you don't give me the liquor. Now hand it over before I call for him."

"Call all you want—he ain't here," Bobby countered. Angel frowned at the failure of her plan. The weird snowy look to the world, the ringing in her ears, and the persistent feeling of spinning may have been preferable to complete consciousness, but she needed that alcohol and she couldn't risk using her powers to get it. She was already too taxed from the drugs.

"Where is he? Did he run to the store to get something for one of the village idiots?" she asked.

"What day do you think it is?" Bobby asked. She mumbled something as she tried to recount it.

"Thursday," she decided. "Stupid son of a bitch woke up Wednesday, so it must be Thursday."

"It's Monday and that was over two months ago. Crowley and Cas are gone and the boys gave up on you comin' back," Bobby informed her. She attempted to recount the days on her fingers before closing her eyes again.

"Time is a meaningless construct you humans use to give meaning to your existence," she sighed. "Can I _please_ have that liquor now? I'll get it whether you give it to me or not."

"Yeah, I'd believe that if you weren't so strung out you lost two months of time. You lay there and let the drugs leave your system. The boys'll be here tomorrow to pick you up. They were headed through anyway. There's a big haunting in Massachusetts," Bobby told her. She frowned.

"Don't let me get sober, Bobby. Nobody wants to see me sober," she warned him. He looked at her in surprise for a moment before nodding. Something in her eyes assured him that she'd finally said something that wasn't drug-induced stupidity. In fact, he thought maybe he needed some alcohol himself. This wasn't going to be a pretty night.

...

"Normal hunting, just like old times. Well, except we're not bagging monsters for the Crooked Creeps and sobriety has officially been thrown out the window. Not that I'm complaining. It's a good way to live," Angel commented, tossing a crumpled up ball of paper as she laid in the back seat of the Impala. Dean took a drink of his beer as he drove as though to prove her point. Sam looked at him concernedly. He wasn't happy with the influence Angel was having on his brother.

"At least we're back to hating Crowley again. God, dealing with him was Hell," Dean commented.

"When did we stop hating him?" Angel asked.

"Guys, he did help us out. We shouldn't be so hard on him now that he's out of our hair," Sam remarked. Angel and Dean glanced at each other. Sam was too understanding.

"Speaking of out of our hair, has anyone heard from Cassie boy? I still owe him a good beating," Angel asked nonchalantly.

"Haven't tried to contact him," Dean muttered, lifting the beer bottle to his lips again. Sam wondered exactly how miserable his brother must've been to drink at the wheel of his precious car.

"He probably thinks we don't want anything to do with him, but he'll come around. He knows we won't be mad forever," Sam reasoned.

"Speak for yourself, pet. God, you really are a sweet roll. There isn't anything bitter or hard in you," Angel spoke up. "You were much more attractive soulless."

"We agreed not to mention that," Dean reminded her. She sighed, hating even that small rule. Part of her wanted Sam's mental barrier to dissolve. She wanted to see if he could cope. After all, it was only torture at the hands of two angels that despised each other. Angel imagined they probably had competitions on who could cause the most damage to the boy's soul. They had always been competitive.

"It's all right, Dean. She doesn't have to walk on eggshells around me. We all know the wall in my mind's going to break sometime anyway," Sam soothed.

"Yeah, but she doesn't need to help break it down. The longer it lasts, the better for all of us," Dean argued. Angel sighed. They'd been having this argument too often and it was entirely irrelevant. Angel could feel the more tortured part of Sam's essence leaking out of its container. It wouldn't be long until it _did_ break free and dragging it out wasn't really helping anything. Besides, her curiosity was growing. She didn't know how a human would deal with the sort of intensive torture the boy's soul surely went through. Their quickly escalating argument, however, was of no interest to her.

"All right, shut up, the lot of you! There's no point arguing about it like this. Que sera, sera and all that," Angel interrupted. "Where are we headed anyway? All you told me is that there was some sort of unidentified creature terrorizing Boston."

"There's not much more to tell. The death rate has gone up almost 300% in the past week. Investigators are stumped and most of the bodies are showing up with odd scratches on them," Sam informed her. "They say they all have a look of terror on their faces too, so, whatever it is, it probably isn't winning any beauty contests."

"More's the pity, I was hoping for a pretty monster," Angel murmured. Sam rolled his eyes. His feelings about her were mixed, to say the least. She had done so much to help them, but she was a terrible—and annoying—individual. He could almost see how she and Crowley had a history, provided they'd actually had one. Crowley wouldn't say and no one had asked Angel. They weren't that stupid. "Sweet roll, give me your laptop. You aren't using it and I want to research this monster."

"Fine, but don't change the language on it again. It took me forever to figure out how to get it out of Arabic," Sam stipulated. Angel smiled as he handed her the device.

"Of course I won't do something like that again, Sam. You know how to reverse it now."

...

"Watch out!" Sam shouted as the unidentified projectile turned in midair to go straight for Angel. She glanced over too late, the short harpoon-like projectile biting into her thigh.

"Dean, duck!" she yelled, watching another come flying. Sam motioned for them all to gather further from the unidentified monster. The projectile thankfully missed Dean and the three managed to kneel behind the overturned couch to meet. Angel pulled the harpoon out of her thigh, holding it up to the light. "Poison, probably enough to kill humans."

"Will it impact you?" Sam asked practically as Angel glanced over the back of the couch. She had another in her hand when she sat back down.

"No, it won't hurt me. I'd rather not be hit by any more, but I can cover the two of you if need be. They look natural—well, as natural as anything is from a monster. What's up with the all the unknown creatures now? Why can't they be normal ones we can identify?" she muttered, loading the gun Dean tossed her.

"Can you see it?" Sam asked, ignoring her complaints as she looked over the edge of the couch again.

"Shit, yes," she announced, sending off a shot before hiding back behind the couch. A projectile flew past and ricocheted off the far wall. "I don't think I hit it."

"You need to practice," Dean reminded her.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll go at it with a knife. I doubt it can hurt me anyway. You two stay here," she instructed, darting around the corner before they could protest. A growl sounded on the far side, interrupted by a series of curses and names. A short minute later, Angel leaned on the back of the couch. "Got it. Well, sorta. Tag, you're it."

"What?" Dean asked, jumping up. The humanoid, shadowy monster seemed to be missing a hand.

"No more projectiles. I can't see or I would finish it off," Angel informed them, sinking to the floor. "I may have been wrong about the poison."

"Clearly," Sam remarked, joining Dean. A few rounds had no impact on the beast, so they instead closed in with blades. It fought like mad, kicking and clawing at them in an attempt to survive, but they managed to kill it. The brothers sank to the ground beside Angel.

"The poison's airborne, I think. We need to move," she informed them.

"Airborne?" Sam asked, glancing toward her without really seeing more than shadows.

"Yeah. Hold on," she instructed before transporting them back outside the old shack near the car. They all laid down, the poison depressing their systems and clouding their eyes. The feeling of a strong, downward breeze washed over them all, confusing their half-conscious minds. The click of an old flip phone opening went unheard by the brothers.

"Bobby, I found them. They've been poisoned," Cas stated. Bobby instructed him to bring them home and help them anxiously, albeit loudly. Cas wondered if they would choose to let him help them if they were more aware, but decided it was irrelevant. Angel turned onto her side away from him, a feeble protest that he chose to overlook as he transported them.

"Get them to their beds. What kind of poison was it?" Bobby asked, preparing to treat them as best he could. Angel stuck a hand in her pocket, pulling out a syringe.

"A natural system depressant. They are stable. Rest should be the only treatment they require," Cas informed him, noticing Angel's move and watching as she injected something into the open wound on her thigh. After a few seconds, her eyes opened and she sat up, glaring at Cas.

"I'm out of here, Bobby. The boys'll be fine, but I've got to go. They know how to find me if they need me," she informed Bobby, standing quickly.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, remembering too late that challenging her authority in such a way wasn't recommended.

"Out. Someone needs to find out what the hell that was and if there are more," she told him, heading toward the kitchen. She came back a few minutes later with a blade and a bottle of gin. "I'll let you know what I find out. When Sam wakes up, tell him I'll need a new card soon."

"Angel," Cas said, placing himself between her and the doorway. "Can we talk?"

"Well, you do seem to be causing sounds that closely approximate human language, so I would say, yes, you can talk," she retorted, stalking past him with her head held high.

"Angel, I apologize. It was unwise to say what I did," Cas stated, following her out the door. She turned toward him angrily.

"I don't care if it was unwise and you aren't sorry about it anyway. It was said, I hate you more for it, and now we can go on with our lives like normal. We're enemies. We don't have heartfelt conversations to make up. If you're about that, go back to the boys, but leave me alone," Angel growled, the blade in her hand catching the light as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I am trying to make peace with you," Castiel stated as though not understanding her. She snickered.

"Cassie boy, you've been with the humans too long. Not everyone wants to make peace, lover, and I'm the one least for it. Go play with your pet humans. Bother them with your peace instead," she instructed, licking her lips before taking a swig of liquor.

"They will not forgive me if you do not," Cas predicted.

"Shut up and go kiss Dean and make up, but _for God's sake_ , leave me alone," she groaned, transporting herself away. The fizzle left in the air made Cas wonder if she was weakened, but he turned back toward the house anyway. Clearly, she didn't want him to have anything to do with her and, besides, the Winchesters needed attention anyway. He thought he understood the poison enough to restore them to health and that doing so would encourage them to forgive him faster. He needed them to forgive him. He didn't know what to do now that Heaven had made the decision to stay out of earth affairs. He'd never had no purpose before.

...

Crowley sipped his scotch as he glared at the empty chair in the room. He didn't know how the angel had escaped—it was more than half mad from all the torture—but escape it had. He thought he should be worried, but there was little he could do now that he'd dispatched trackers to find it and he was never one to worry unless he had no other choice, so he stood nursing his scotch instead. He wondered what the angel would do—would it try to come back and kill him? Would it find and fight its brothers? Would it go the easy route and kill itself? He didn't know. Weakened and trapped in a physical form, there was little it manage to do.

"Hello?" Crowley answered, picking up the phone before it made a sound.

"I need your help. Come immediately," Angel instructed before ending the call. Crowley downed the rest of his scotch, staring at the chair, before transporting himself to her location.

"What is it?" he asked warily. Angel was sitting crisscross on a hotel sink counter, her phone by her side.

"I'm at a dilemma. I've given a handful of drugs, including ecstasy, to them, but I can't decide what would be the best path now. Interspecies homosexuality? Angelic and human incest? An orgy of angels and men? I can't decide how I should arrange them," she informed him, gesturing toward where the Winchester brothers and Castiel lay. Crowley looked over without surprise. He knew she would get bored and do something.

"I thought you were working for them," he stated neutrally. She laughed.

"They won't remember any of this, lover. Now, what would you suggest? Oh, or perhaps I could send you to Castiel and then put the brothers together. So many options," Angel sighed. Crowley, realizing that a sign of weakness now would very well end him in the middle of a pile of drugged bodies, walked over and put the three to sleep. Angel pouted at him. "Why did you do that? I wanted to have some fun!"

"It's unwise to permanently damage your employers and an angel on ecstasy could have few other outcomes," Crowley informed her.

"I could've fixed them," she protested. "And I _don't_ appreciate your interference."

"You wouldn't have allowed me to put them out if you didn't want them to be in the first place," he pointed out. She smiled dangerously.

"Is that so, ducks? Does that mean you don't think you deserve punishment for interfering?" she asked, leaning toward him as she held onto the counter. Crowley shrugged.

"Would my opinion impact your decision?" he asked, shifting his stance from one foot to another. Angel laughed, a sign that he knew could mean safety just as easily as trouble.

"I've missed you, lover. What if I only burned one of your bones? How would you like to live without a jaw, a kneecap, or perhaps just a big toe? That would be suitable punishment," she mused, jumping off the counter to join him beside her now sleeping victims. "God, I hate everyone. Look how peaceful they seem. It makes me want to kill them."

"Then kill them. What would it matter? I have no reason to beg for their lives," Crowley suggested unaffectedly. Angel sat down on the edge of the bed, looking down at her sleeping brother.

"They are the most likely companions to assist my goal. I can kill them afterwards," she informed him, her black eyes looking back to his. "Does my restraint surprise you?"

"No, I suspected you had a reason for letting them live. I knew it had to be more than just the money and your affair with the moose. You could get the money elsewhere and I imagine he wasn't impressive to you even when soulless," he answered her. She smiled.

"You know me well, pet. Now that his soul's back, he's lost even that appeal. My life has become very dull with the return of his soul and the end of the demon-monster fight. Why don't you help me out by stirring up a bunch of trouble, lover? If you're claiming to be King of Hell, you surely have the power to start some big beautiful problem," she sighed.

"I can't stir up Hell and earth just for your amusement. I'm a businessman," Crowley pointed out. Angel pouted.

"Once upon a time, you would have stirred up the universe to entertain me," she accused.

"Yes, because you were the path to power," he returned.

"Is that all, lover? Are you really going to pretend you didn't worship the very ground I trod?" she chuckled. Crowley shrugged. It was pointless to deny his foolishness—and he knew he never would've gained the skills he needed to really rule Hell without her harsh wake-up call.

"You were a good actress and your titles were well given. Lucifer alone didn't worship and fear you," he remarked. Mentioning Lucifer produced the expected effect—souring her expression and making her eyes flash. He was glad to see that there was still something that could influence her, but added a soothing, "not that he shouldn't have."

"You're trying to flatter me, but it won't work. We both know Daddy despised me as much as he did the others—maybe more so. I learned everything from him," she protested, crossing her arms over her chest. Crowley began to feel a phantom pain in his bones, some part of him remembering her earlier threats. Angel noticed as he began massaging one wrist with his other hand and smiled. "Worried I'll make good on my threat? I won't—right now. I still need you to stir up trouble for me and you'll work on it harder if the threat of harm is hanging over you."

"Your memory is as good as always," Crowley acknowledged, remembering the horrors she and Lucifer had inflicted upon him when her playacting was over. Angel smiled and stood, closer to Crowley than he was comfortable with. He resisted the urge to step back, knowing the slight, vague understanding between them would disappear if he showed weakness.

"Did you miss me when I left, lover, or were you only too glad the torture was over?" she asked, her eyelids hooding her black eyes. He didn't respond, knowing his best bet would be to let her have her fun teasing him rather than taking her seriously. She got steadily closer to him. "Well? You didn't answer me, pet."

"You know there is only one answer for any who knew you as I did," Crowley answered. One dark eyebrow rose, asking for further information. "I missed the pleasure and feared the return of the pain."

"Even now?" Angel whispered, hardly any space between them. He repressed a shudder. His recent unconsciousness had been filled of dreams of her torture.

"Even now," he agreed, hoping it would soothe her. She laughed and stepped back, satisfied that she still had the same power over him she once had.

"Go cause trouble, lover, and I won't have to remind you of my skill in torture," she instructed, freeing him. Crowley had a feeling that, if he didn't find his escaped prisoner soon, they were all going to have more trouble than they'd bargained for.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me, just my character Angel and bits of the plot.**

...

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked as the Impala swerved out of the way of what appeared to be a huge flaming meteor. The ground shook as it apparently landed in the town they were leaving A glance in the rearview mirror was blocked by Sam turning around and Angel sitting up. The light from the meteor rose higher and higher as the ground began shaking more violently.

"Fuck, it looks like an archangel!" Angel shouted, pushing Sam out of the way as she nearly threw herself into the front seat. "Floor it, lover!"

"Why? Is it after us?" Sam asked as Dean obeyed.

"I don't know, but I'd rather not stick around to find out!" Angel answered, glancing back in the mirror nervously. "We need to get out of here and fast."

"Would Cas help even the odds?" Dean asked, his eyes on the road.

"It couldn't hurt," Sam reasoned, watching the light shimmer as the angel apparently shook itself. Angel pursed her lips in disgust before agreeing. Even if the thing was dazed, it would be more than a match for the three of them. With Castiel, they had a chance.

"Cas," Dean said with a glance skyward. "Get your feathery ass down here and help us out or else I swear to God I'll track you down."

"Amen," Angel and Sam agreed in unison.

"What?" Cas asked, materializing in the back seat beside Angel's oddly folded legs.

"That!" she informed him, gesturing out the back window.

"Dena," Cas said in some surprise.

"Just what we need. Archangel of justice and judgment. Why the hell is she here?" Angel demanded, sitting back to glare at Castiel like it was his fault.

"I don't know. She was missing and presumed dead," he explained.

"Well, she's back now," Sam remarked, watching in the mirror as the light condensed toward the ground and disappeared as they went over a hill.

"I do not believe she is following," Castiel informed them. "Something is wrong with her."

"Yeah, I already knew that, dumbass. Madness is _radiating_ off her," Angel retorted, still watching out the back window. "We need to find out whether she's after us and exactly how destroyed her mind is."

"What does it take to make an angel go crazy?" Dean asked, glancing at the two in the backseat.

"Define crazy. Are we talking Daddy crazy or Cas crazy?" Angel asked. Castiel looked at her. "What? You can't even argue that you weren't."

"You refer to Lucifer as 'Daddy' and God as 'Daddy Dearest.' Why?" he asked.

"They've both fucked me—literally in Lucifer's case," she snorted. "Don't we all have daddy issues anymore? Anyway, I doubt that's what happened to Dena, since Daddy's still all caged up and Daddy Dearest is AWOL."

"So what could have done it?" Sam asked, choosing wisely to ignore the exchange between the two.

"I'd guess torture, but who would have the knowhow to capture and torture an archangel?" Dean suggested. Angel nodded approvingly with his theory.

"A series of angels could accomplish it. Raphael is still missing," Cas offered. "Angels have also been captured by demons before on occasion, but I have never heard of an archangel being captured."

"It's unusual for any seraphim to get captured, let alone an archangel. Cherubim, sure, but not usually seraphim," Angel remarked, trying to think of any time she knew of any higher heavenly power being captured.

"Archangels are seraphim?" Sam asked.

"The terms are a bit vaguer than your people tend to think. We use seraphim to refer to several higher classes of angel that are distinct from the lower classes, or cherubim, in terms of both appearance and power. Archangels are the strongest seraphim, used to guard prophets and Heaven as well as to wage war. Technically, there are only four Archangels—Daddy, Michael the Shit, Gabby Gabriel, and the now-missing Raphael—but the term 'archangel' is used to refer to Heaven's next most powerful twenty as well, which, of course, do all the grunt work that the big four find beneath them. Dena was one of them, devoted to the keeping of justice and judgment among humans. Think of plagues and sudden changes in battle," Angel explained, clearly bored.

"Michael the Shit," Dean chuckled.

"So what are you and Cas?" Sam asked.

"Seraphim. We are both three classes under the Four Archangels," Cas answered for her.

"That's what I was born, anyway. You can't really still consider me an angel, can you, Cassie boy?" Angel asked with a smirk. "Anyway, we need to find out who _could_ capture Dena and torture her—if she really was tortured."

An impact nearby nearly sent the car skidding off the road. With curses, they all glanced back.

"Holy shit. She's destroyed the town we just left," Angel muttered, watching the flames and shadows. "That was a golf cart that almost hit us."

"We need to get out of here and fast. Cas, can you get us somewhere to safety?" Dean asked. "And I mean the car too."

"Yes," Cas informed him before transporting the vehicle states away to Bobby's driveway. Dean parked the car and everyone got out, looking around to make sure the archangel hadn't followed.

"You want to hang out and help us research, Cas?" Dean invited. Cas looked at the three of them. Sam and Dean watched him, waiting for an answer, while Angel climbed on top of the car to look over the trees, ignoring them.

"I will do what I can," he agreed.

"I don't see any sign of her. I think we might be safe—at least for a while," Angel announced, jumping off the car to lead the way to Bobby's door.

"Good. We've gotta figure out what's going on," Sam remarked.

...

"There are rumors that Raphael has been spotted," Cas said over the speakerphone. Sam, Dean, and Bobby glanced at Angel, who was twirling a curl absently.

"How reliable are the rumors and where was he supposedly seen?" she asked, unworried. She figured manipulating Raphael couldn't be much harder than lying to Lucifer.

"Asia, mostly, but he was last seen on St. Lawrence Island. Balthazar spotted him," Cas answered.

"Balthazar! We thought you killed him," Sam exclaimed.

"I did. He was back when we returned to consciousness after Purgatory," Cas told them.

"You killed Balthazar? Ha, I bet that was a laugh. Where's the old boy at? I bet I can convince him to help us, even without really knowing him. You have that impact on people," Angel asked. Cas informed her that he wasn't sure, but he would let her know, before returning to the subject of Raphael.

"So do we think he was the one torturing Dena or is this just a coincidence?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, but both are getting closer to your location. Dena was last seen in Utah," Cas explained.

"Do you think she's coming after us or that she's just following 50?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Cas repeated.

"If there's nothing else, tell me Balthazar's last known location. I'm going to go hunt for allies," Angel informed them. Cas told her Balthazar had vanished from the last place he'd seen him and hung up. "Oh, and I need a new card, Sam. This one's only got a hundred bucks left on it."

"You've had it less than a week," Sam groaned.

"And? I saved your lives, sugar."

...

Crowley ended his phone call without a word as Angel popped into the room.

"Did I stir up enough trouble?" he asked as he walked over to the table and got out a bottle of his favorite scotch.

"I thought you might have something to do with it. How did you catch an archangel in the first place, lover? I'm impressed," she remarked, taking the glass he offered her. He took the seat opposite her and took a drink before answering.

"I can't tell you all my secrets," he answered. She downed her glass and set it on the table, leaning across it toward him.

"Tell me this one, pet," she requested. The sparkle in her eyes wasn't malicious, for once, and Crowley understood that she was giving him an actual choice. He shrugged.

"I trapped it in a human vessel and did a bit of—ah—exploratory surgery. When it escaped, it destroyed the vessel in the process," he informed her as he refilled her glass.

"Exploratory surgery?" she prompted.

"I extracted its wings and added a few nasty poisons to its Grace. It was due for another dose before it escaped or it wouldn't have any heavenly powers now. Of course, I tortured it generally as well," he explained.

"Why did you do it?" she asked, her eyes half-hooded by her eyelids.

"Power. If I could torture it until it obeyed me, I would've had a strength no others in Hell and most of Heaven couldn't match," he pointed out. She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs beneath the chair, and interlaced her fingers to make a place to put her chin.

"You were trying to do what Daddy did to me," she said neutrally. Crowley couldn't tell what answer would be safe. The fact that she even suspected what he had been doing was dangerous. "I'm impressed, lover. If you didn't fear me, I could be in great danger of making something much of you."

"Pity, then," Crowley remarked, finishing his second glass of scotch. Angel smiled.

"I'm glad you fear me and I don't fear you. If the ground was fairer, I suspect you'd convince me to help you rule and maintain Hell. What a bore that would be. I much prefer the drinking and sexing I'm doing now," she chatted, pouring each of them a third glass of scotch. Crowley wondered why she was still there when she had all the information she apparently needed, but decided not to ask. One didn't ask questions of the woman known as pleasure when her eyes got that heavy lidded look to them. He took a drink of the scotch.

"The life seems to suit you," he agreed. And it was true. Her eyes were brighter than they had been at even the best moment in Hell and the freedom from Lucifer's torture and control seemed to be the only explanation for it.

"Does it, pet?" she asked, eyelashes brushing her cheeks as she blinked in a slow way he remembered well. He wondered what the blink meant today—was it agony or delight she had in mind? The looks were indistinguishable when she her eyes had that particular look. Her fingers unlaced and she leaned on one hand while the fingertips of her other turned his ring absently. He restrained himself from jumping or allowing his breathing to change, but his anticipation, good and bad, was building quickly. "Is that why you provided the scotch?"

"No," he replied, not really knowing what to do. In their early relationship, she had pretended to have some sort of quivering innocence when exposed to any sort of respect or kindness. After the day Lucifer revealed what they had been doing, she had been nothing short of the universe's representation of all things terrifying. The pain she could inflict was every bit as equal to the pleasure she could give and he knew that. The corners of her red stained lips turned up softly.

"Perhaps, then, you intended to provide the sex?" she asked, her fingertips tracing little circles up his arm toward his shoulder. He couldn't suppress his shudder this time and she smiled more broadly. "Or was that for me to bring, lover, because I certainly didn't bring anything but myself?"

"This is a bad idea," Crowley cautioned, warning himself more than her. She lifted his hand off the table and placed it against her face, her eyelashes tickling his fingers as she blinked.

"Will you deny me?" she breathed, turning her face to kiss his palm as she waited for his answer.

"No," the answer rumbled from somewhere in his chest. There was no denying her, no matter how foolish to accept. She slid from her chair, not letting go of his hand as she walked toward the doorway she knew led to his bedroom.

"Come with me, Crowley," she instructed. He felt dazed, drugged, as he stood and followed her. He couldn't understand why she wanted to sleep with him now. She wasn't following orders, she already had all the liquor and other pleasures she wanted, and he'd more or less admitted that he had been trying to torture one of her siblings into madness so he would have an unbeatable weapon, as Lucifer had done to her. She stopped beside the bed and pushed him to make him sit down.

"What are you doing?" he asked as she knelt down and picked up one of his feet.

"You can't be naked with shoes on, lover, and I don't want you clothed," she informed him silkily. Once his socks and shoes were removed, she frowned at his belt before reaching for it.

"I can get that," he assured her, not ready for contact that intimate. Not from her. His insides were shaking and he didn't want her to know how much of an impact she had on him. She pouted and rested her chin on his knee as he removed his own belt and tossed it haphazardly to the floor.

"Kiss me?" she prompted questioningly, looking up at him in a way he knew would haunt his thoughts for ages. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her off the floor, seeking out her lips. He felt like a dying man finding water, but knew that succumbing to her was about as productive as drinking saltwater contaminated with mercury. Her knees sank into the mattress on either side of him, her shoes making a sound as they fell to the floor, as his hands strayed down her exposed back. He thanked the gods for whoever designed the low-backed shirt. He felt an unevenness beneath her skin and let his fingers linger to try to discover what marred her smooth back. He'd never felt anything unusual before.

"My wings," she explained his unasked question, breathing heavily as he kissed down her neck. "They're harder to hide sometimes than others." She moaned as he explored the uneven ridges of her wings, pulled deep into the muscles of her back. A silent prayer begged her to release her wings and she shuddered beneath his touch and attention. "You don't want to see them, lover. They're useless."

"Please?" he breathed against the hollow of her throat.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," she moaned, leaning her head down against his as she let her wings, contained for so long, rise to the surface. Crowley understood why she said they were useless. They were broken, mangled, terribly small. They didn't even fully extend from her back, stretching the skin in an odd way as the bones stuck out. He kissed her, suspecting this was her most hidden weakness, and caressed the painful prominences tenderly. She hissed when his fingers reached the point where her wings seemed to meet and arched her back. "Oh, holy _fire_ , I don't know if that's pain or pleasure."

"Thin line between them," Crowley remarked her as he tugged the bottom of her shirt upward. She helped him eagerly, unlacing his tie the second her fingers were free. Together, they unbuttoned his shirt and got it and his jacket off in record time. Her bra was hardly more than a second's nuisance. He massaged the point between her wings again and her back arched again. "Pleasure or pain?"

"Shite, both," she hissed, pushing him back against the bed. "Don't tease. It isn't fair if I don't get to return the favor."

"You always tease," he protested vaguely as he turned to put her back against the bed instead of his. A smirk, familiar, dangerous, and entrancing, crossed her face before he claimed her lips again. As if to prove him right, her fingers ran along the edge of his waistband lightly. Her touch, he thought, was still like electricity—cold and hot and stimulating and feather-soft and painful all at once. He kissed down her throat, stopping for a moment at her breasts before continuing downward. He wanted her to feel the same exhilarating, powerful vulnerability he felt.

"Not fair, Crowley," she whispered, her back arching again as his ministrations began to take effect. She moaned and tugged at his shoulder in a silent plea. He ignored it until she cried out and whimpered his name. Then, and only then, did he trail kisses back up to her throat. She breathed heavily as he nuzzled her neck, waiting for her to recover enough to continue. "I swear on the existence of the universe, if you're still clothed, I'll burn down this building. It's _my_ turn."

"Burn down the building if you like, but it would be much easier to simply _remove_ my clothing," Crowley suggested with a chuckle, one hand slipping between her thighs as the other sought out the tender spot between her wings again.

"You insufferable tease," she breathed, unbuttoning his trousers as quickly as she could. She managed to finish undressing him before her practiced fingers teased him into a moan. He rolled onto his side as she kissed him. Crowley worried for a moment that one of them _would_ set the room afire accidently, but the thought passed quickly. There were more important things than accidental power usage…like the implications of a trail of kisses moving slowly toward his hips. He thanked the gods for the superhuman stamina and strength he had as a demon. He didn't want this give-and-take battle to prove who could inflict the greater pleasure to end soon. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

"Oh, gods," he moaned as the red-stained lips took over from the silken fingers. He could almost feel her smile.

"No gods," she whispered. "Only _me_."

...

Angel laid quietly in Crowley's arms when they were finished, surprising him. The Angel he knew was a wham-bam-what-was-your-name-again-oh-yeah-it's-here-on-your-credit-card-anyway-you-were-pathetic-I'm-going-back-to-the-bar sort of person. He had gathered that she always left as soon as she was satisfied, whatever the state of the partner in question. Even before, when he had thought her to be in love with him, she always excused herself quickly after their stolen moments under the pretense that Lucifer would torture them mercilessly if he caught them. Angel recalled his thoughts to the present with a sigh.

"And you thought me worship-worthy before," she gloated airily. He rolled his eyes and stopped caressing her. Clearly, she'd already decided it was beneath her notice that he had given every bit as much as he had taken.

"I seem to remember the thrill of fear being your main appeal before," he countered. She laughed.

"Liar. Even pretending to be so overcome with love as to become an uncertain novice, I was better than any other you'd had," she retorted. Crowley's phone went off and they both stared at it. "That's the eighth time. Is it important?"

"Probably," he sighed, reaching for it. Angel sat up and stretched. Crowley watched her as he answered the phone. It didn't take him more than half a minute to realize that Angel was being as dramatic as possible to catch his eye as she got her clothes and headed to the shower, but he watched her anyway. There was no reason to miss the show while he was conducting business. The phone call turned out to be important as well as relevant to their earlier conversation. The mad angel had destroyed another town, now following I-90. When Angel returned from the shower, Crowley was dressed and nursing another glass of scotch.

"Alcoholic. You'll be a bad influence on me," she remarked as she saw the glass. He rolled his eyes.

"The archangel's headed along I-90. From the five missed phone calls from the squirrel, I would say they're desperate to find you," he informed her. She sighed deeply.

"It almost isn't worth it. Let me know if you find out more about the angel," she instructed, tossing her wet hair over her shoulder so it hung down her back. "Oh, and mention what happened here to anyone and it won't be Delicia that you're crying out."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me, just my character Angel and bits of the plot.**

...

"You can kill Crowley. It's his fault there's a crazy archangel on the loose," Angel announced nonchalantly as she walked past the hunters in the living room to seek out the liquor cabinet.

"What?" Bobby, Dean, and Sam asked in unison. Angel didn't reply until she returned with a bottle of whisky.

"He captured her and tortured her, but she escaped, so you can kill him if you want someone to blame," she explained with a yawn.

"How did you find that out?" Sam asked. Angel rolled her eyes.

"I just came from his house, sugar," she answered. "Apparently he'd captured Dena by trapping her in a human form, filling it full of poison, and running experiments on her."

"And you didn't kill him?" Sam asked. Angel snorted.

"Kill him for it? Have you any idea how bored I've been since we stopped Cassie boy? An archangel on the loose is just the sort of excitement I needed," she informed him, leaning against the arm of the couch and throwing her legs across Dean and Sam's laps.

"So you both ignored your phones for hours to discuss the missing angel?" Dean asked, glancing at his call history. Angel shrugged.

"My phone was here, but Crowley and I didn't talk over ten minutes. He must've just been ignoring you," she offered easily. "Did you know he has you saved in his phone as 'Not Moose?' I saw the last call and told him that, whenever I decide to kill him, I'll burn his bones all at once instead of one at a time since he entertained me so much."

"Does burning bones really work, then?" Sam asked.

"Of course, sweet roll. Demons are nothing more than special ghosts," Angel droned, closing her eyes as she leaned back against the arm of the chair.

"Does he have any way of controlling her still?" Bobby asked. Angel shrugged.

"As far as he can tell, no, but he hasn't been able to contact her yet. The demons he's sent have all died, obviously. Anyway, what does Cassie boy think? Is she coming after us?" she asked, cracking one eye open to glance at Bobby before taking a drink of her whisky.

"He was going to check while you were gone, but he hasn't come back yet," Dean answered.

"We've been looking for Balthazar's location. He's made deals before," Sam informed her.

"Any luck?" she asked. A flash of light and cracking sound stopped the conversation. When the light waned, Cas was bleeding on the floor.

"Cas, what happened?" Dean asked quickly as he and Sam nearly toppled Angel off the couch in their haste to check on Cas.

"Raphael. He's trying to control Dena," Castiel managed weakly.

"I thought he was missing," Bobby said as he grabbed the first aid kit under the coffee table to help. Cas's eyes closed.

"We need to get Cas upstairs," Dean muttered decisively. "Sammy, grab his feet."

"Should we be moving him?" Bobby asked as Sam and Dean lifted the trenchcoated angel.

"Too late now," Sam remarked as they started carrying him upstairs. Angel opened the door to Cas's usual room. Once they had Cas settled, Bobby did what repair work he could. The boys went back downstairs. They'd all seen Cas in worse shape. Their chief hope was that he left Raphael looking worse.

...

Angel sent Bobby downstairs when he was finished and sat in the chair beside Castiel's bed. She knew he would recover quickly. The damage seemed mostly physical, but Angel dismissed Bobby anyway. Angels had a distinct tendency to talk in their sleep and Angel thought she might get the information she needed quicker this way. _I'd rather be off drinking, but the humans don't know Enochian and that's what language he's likely to use_ , she thought. A bottle of gin and her thoughts kept her occupied as she waited.

When Castiel began muttering, she took a long drink of the gin before setting it aside. Castiel's muttering remained indistinct, however, until his eyes opened.

"You," he said upon wakening. Angel snorted.

"Yeah, me. Your pet humans are downstairs. I was hoping you would recite whatever information you had in your sleep," she informed him. "What the hell happened?"

"I was trying to approach Dena to see if I could talk to her. When I got close, I found out that Raphael was already there. She was acting oddly, but she was listening to him. She almost killed me, but I managed to escape," Cas explained. Angel offered her bottle of gin to him.

"So we've got a mad archangel under the control of Raphael, who recently had control of half of Heaven's forces. Any chance you can recover your half, lover?" she asked. When Cas motioned to give the bottle back to her, she waved him off. He shook his head.

"I doubt it. They weren't happy when they learned about a demon being my partner in a ploy to use Purgatory to get unlimited power," he told her. He tried to sit up weakly and Angel helped him. "Thanks."

"It's always good to have people owe you and these little favors add up, pet," she nodded. "Do you want me to send the humans up? I'm going to see what allies I can stir up. There has to be someone willing to deal with you, me, or the hunters, sugar."

"Good luck. Most possible allies have been alienated by one of the three," he pointed out. She smiled.

"That's why we'll have to be careful…and pay highly. Do you have any ideas where I should start?" she asked.

"Yes. Balthazar is in Dubai," he answered. "He may agree to work with you, but he will not work with me. You'll have to be careful how you convince him."

"Assuming he doesn't try to kill me on the spot like you did," she remarked drily. Cas offered her the gin again and she accepted, taking a long drink of it before giving it back. "I'll send Bobby up to check on your wounds. I'll do what I can about Balthazar. You rest. You're going to have to grovel some of your allies back when you're recovered."

"I think my injuries just got worse," Cas muttered. Angel laughed.

"You've been with them too long, lover. I expect you to be up by the time I get back. Seeing Balthazar shouldn't take long—one way or the other."

...

"Balthazar, I thought it was time I dropped by for a visit," Angel announced loudly as she materialized in the correct flat. "I brought vodka. I've heard rumors you go for that sort of thing."

Angel smiled to herself as she heard a female voice panicking in the other room. _Well, those rumors are true, at least_. A few seconds later, Balthazar opened the door, wrapped in a sheet.

"Hello, brother. I hope I haven't interrupted anything," Angel smirked.

"I've heard you're calling yourself Angel now," he stated, regarding her closely from the safety of the doorway.

"Yes, Angel Cage. Have to have a bit of a laugh to live, eh, lover? Have some of this. Hell, give some to whoever you've got hiding in there now. I can get more if there isn't enough. The more, the merrier, and all that," she suggested.

"Is this likely to take long?" Balthazar asked. "I would prefer to get rid of them if you're going to be here a while."

"That's up to you, pet. How much time do you want to spend on your dear old sister?" Angel replied. Balthazar went back into the bedroom and returned a moment later, fully clothed.

"Do you drink your vodka straight or mixed with something else?" he asked as he went to the bar to get glasses.

"Straight," she answered, appraising him as he walked past. "Especially since I have to miss out on the view now."

"Can't let you have the unfair advantage," Balthazar responded easily. Angel smiled and stood to join him at the bar.

"The unfair advantage is always mine, lover. Hmm, I like these glasses. They've got a good weight to them," she commented as she gave the vodka to him and took her filled glass.

"I stole them from a curio shop in Venice half a century ago. They don't make things like they used to," he informed her.

"I wouldn't know. I'm new around the human species. Funny little things, aren't they? At least they know how to make concentrated alcohols. I don't think I could stand being on this planet if beer was their strongest drink," she mused.

"Amen," Balthazar agreed, downing a shot. "So why are you here? Not that I don't enjoy vodka and compliments, but you have to want something besides my company."

"But maybe I've heard stories of your prowess, brother mine," Angel suggested, hardly restraining her laughter until she finished her sentence. "Ah, I entertain myself. I'm not here for that—although I have heard good things. Have you heard about Dena?"

"Who hasn't? Word of a mad archangel spreads rapidly. Do you know the Thai government is calling it an uncontrolled wildfire?" he remarked.

"They have to sleep at night, lover. They can only do that by lying to themselves," Angel pointed out. "So, you've heard she's on the loose, but have you heard from where? Why she's mad? Who she's working for now? I have all those answers and you can too, pet—for a price, of course."

"Of course. What sort of price?" Balthazar asked. Angel shrugged.

"Help me stop Dena—or at least protect myself from her. I suppose I should bargain for my employers as well, but your chief goal would be to help me," she answered.

"Employers?" Balthazar prompted.

"This is where you'll lost all interest—the Winchester brothers hired me. It worked well for stopping Cassie boy, but an archangel's a whole other story, eh, pet?" Angel informed him.

"You're working for those two meddlesome little _pests_?" Balthazar said in some surprise. Angel shrugged.

"They pay well enough. It was more fun when the younger one was soulless, but I still get all the booze I want and the traveling makes it easy to have as many liaisons as I choose. Besides, they've made themselves important, somehow, and are likely to get a pause out of anyone instead of being instantly offed. A few seconds pause is enough to escape if necessary," she pointed out. "I believe you know something of hedging your bets through them yourself. Of course, that didn't stop our _darling_ brother from killing you, did it?"

"If they're involved in this, I don't want anything to do with it. Alcohol and illicit liaisons can be had without that risk," he informed her.

"You're lucky, Balthazar. When you were discovered alive, our brothers were pleased, on the whole. Cas was the first brother to see me and he had the insensitivity to hold a knife to my throat," she remarked. "Oh, you should've seen those silly humans then. They tried to _defend_ me—and it worked. Castiel put his knife down and stepped into a holy fire circle of his own accord shortly after, leaving me outside to guard him. They have an influence, Balthazar. I plan to continue using it as long as it serves me."

"That's all well and good for you, _sister_ , but there are too many restrictions and risks. I tried joining a side between Castiel and Raphael and all that got me was dead. I'd rather stay on my own now," he answered. Angel went to refill their glasses and found that the bottle was empty. She formulated her reply as Balthazar pulled out a new bottle.

"I get it. I do, but do you really think you'll be able to stay out of this long? Cassie boy may be harmless again, but Raphael—oh, but that's not for me to tell, is it? You haven't heard about that," Angel hinted.

"Raphael is missing," Balthazar remarked. "Everyone knows that."

"Except he's not, is he, lover?"

"Are you saying you know where Raphael is?"

"Vaguely. I have it from a badly beaten Castiel that the last free and living Archangel has managed to convince our poor demented sister to obey him."

"How do you know Cas isn't lying?" Balthazar asked suspiciously. Angel smiled.

"He doesn't lie to me after the stunt he tried to pull. He knows I have no reason not to kill him," she answered. "Come on, Balthazar, sweet. Surely you don't want to risk the rogues coming after you alone. Throw in your lot with me and you can pretend to be a spy for him, if necessary—Hell, _be_ a spy for him, just give me a second's warning before he tries something. It'll keep you safe."

"I'm quite safe here, thank you," he replied, pouring the last of their second bottle of liquor into their glasses.

"Are you sure? Cas knew exactly where you were staying. If he knows, how much more likely would Raphael be to find out? Do you still have some of Heaven's weaponry?" Angel asked before downing her refilled glass.

"Does it matter if I do or not?" Balthazar asked wearily as he replaced their alcohol again. Angel shrugged.

"Not to me. Whatever you have or don't have is irrelevant to me, but I know certain brothers of ours that would care," she answered easily. "Mm, you have good taste, Balthazar. I'll bring more than one bottle with me next time. Can't owe you, now can I?"

"You already owe me for removing me from the attention of three very attractive and _skilled_ women with whom I was making acquaintance," he responded drily.

"Is that what they call it now, lover? What if I replaced them with better? It wouldn't take much more than a phone call and another credit card," she offered.

"No, thank you, I am quite capable of finding lovers on my own. Did you want anything else or was this just an attempt to make friends?" he asked, clearly tiring of their conversation.

"Nothing but an attempt to get allies—and to satisfy my curiosity. Raphael controlling an archangel tortured for ages by King Crowley is less intriguing than a brother of mine making a name in the world of affairs," she remarked, standing up and downing the remainder of her glass. "My number's in your phone. Call me if you find yourself considering my offer…or if you want to make one of your own."

...

"How has your groveling been going, pet?" Angel asked as Cas joined her and the brothers in the kitchen.

"Not well. Most of my previous allies are unwilling to agree to support or fight us," he informed them. "Has Balthazar said anything?"

"Not since I visited, no, but he'll be calling soon. I owe him vodka and a few illicit partners," she answered easily. "Whether he agrees to help us or not will probably depend on how well I repay my debt. He probably wouldn't mind a chance to take a hit at you, either. He didn't appreciate being killed."

"I was mad with the desire for power," Cas excused himself.

"We all have been at one point or another. Have you two been having any luck? Bobby's trying to work on getting more weaponry and the help of a few other hunters," Angel said, looking to the brothers.

"He isn't having much luck. I've been looking up anything on stopping archangels, but there isn't much info online," Sam answered.

"Has anyone ever tried to take on an archangel before?" Dean asked, opening a bottle of beer absently.

"Not that succeeded. There is no record of an archangel being captured, either," Cas answered.

"So do you think we ought to give Crowley a call? If he managed to capture her, he may know something," Sam suggested.

"It's worth a try. Do you want to go talk to him, Angel?" Dean asked. Angel set down her bottle of scotch quietly.

"I'd rather not. Our last meeting was a little…uncomfortable," she answered.

"What kind of uncomfortable?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Uh-uh-uh, lover. Questions aren't permitted, remember? He won't talk to me. That should be enough information for you. Now, which one of you is he most likely to speak with? Moose, squirrel, or Our Heavenly Castiel," Angel wondered.

"Not me," Cas answered instantly.

"He'd probably talk to Dean before he would me. Are you willing to try it?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged. Angel started laughing.

"We could always send Bobby. I think Crowley enjoyed that contract kiss a bit more than he let on," she suggested. "Besides, Bobby's better at gaining allies anyway. He's friendlier than the rest of us."

"Bobby could work," Dean agreed.

"Good. That's settled, then. Sam, take a break from researching and get me a new card—two actually. I've got to impress Balthazar with how well I pay as an ally," Angel instructed. Sam made a face and Angel leaned over to kiss him. "Come on, lover. You're the one that agreed to work with me in the first place."

"I was soulless!" he protested.

"Don't I know it," she replied wickedly.

"Okay, that's enough of that. I'll work on some credit card fraud while you keep researching, Sam. Cas, see if you can help him. Angel, track down Bobby and see if he'll talk to Crowley," Dean instructed.

"Yes, master," Angel agreed, standing lazily before popping out of the room.

"You're lucky she didn't protest," Sam muttered. "She's a bitch when she's mad."

"Sammy, that was almost mean. I like what she brings out in you—when you've got your soul to keep you steady, anyway."

...

"We need to move," Cas informed the gathered group. "Raphael is leading Dena here and they are likely to arrive in a few hours, if they maintain their current speed and path."

"Are they coming straight for us or just following the road?" Dean asked.

"Straight here. Grab what you need so we can get out of here," Cas replied. Everyone shared a look before getting up. Bobby was out and wouldn't know about the risk to his home until someone went to get him.

"Bobby's not going to be happy if his house gets destroyed," Sam remarked.

"Cas can put down some wards and such around the house. It might make them pause long enough to realize we aren't here and abandon it," Angel suggested, waving him off. "What should I be doing?"

"Go pack what weapons you can," Dean instructed absently. She nodded and disappeared downstairs while Sam went to grab the necessary things from upstairs. "I'm going out to find Bobby. Do whatever you can to protect this place, Cas. It's Bobby's home."

"I will," Cas assured him, beginning his work as Dean headed toward the town. When Dean and Bobby returned, a pile of bags and weaponry graced the front steps and scorch marks scarred the grounds in a peculiar design.

"We're about ready here. We need to pack up what we can to see what else can fit," Sam informed them. "I already grabbed clothes for everyone and food for the road."

"I grabbed the most essential weapons, but there's a stack in the living room that wouldn't be bad," Angel informed them. Cas materialized beside the car and opened the trunk before helping them load everything up. They managed to make everything fit with just enough space for a few more weapons in the back seat underneath their feet. A glance toward the sky told them all they needed to get moving and fast.

"That's everything," Sam announced.

"We'll join you in a second. Cas, help me strengthen your wards. We'll need to come back here for the rest of it," Angel instructed. Once the two had managed to protect the house the best they could, they loaded into the back seat with Bobby. "That holy fire should last long enough to make them lose interest if they get past the wards. Hopefully they'll realize we aren't there and leave it alone."

"Thanks for tryin' to protect it," Bobby thanked with a last look at the old house. Dean started the car in silence and got them onto the road. On another day, the packed car could've been a hunting trip. The lack of music and speech, however, kept any of them from thinking of happy thoughts. All the humans could think about was how they were about to lose another precious home.

...

"We could try doubling back and heading west. They'll expect us to keep east," Angel suggested after a few hours of driving. She'd already drained the alcohol Sam had packed for her and she was starting to get restless.

"We'll stop in a few hours and then we can decide," Dean answered. It was dark out already, but he wanted to put more distance between them and the smoke obliterating the moon in the rearview mirror. Angel sighed.

"Dean, let me drive for a few hours. You look tired," Sam offered. Dean shook his head. It was a time of fear and he felt much more in control behind the wheel of his baby.

"We're getting further from it. You could safely rest for a few hours," Cas pointed out.

"Not until we hit Indianapolis. There, we can decide what to do," Dean answered resolutely.

"What to do will be to rest and check the news to see where they're at," Bobby grumbled.

"They're still in South Dakota at the moment," Cas informed them. They all looked at him, wondering where the information had come from. "I can feel them breaking the wards around the house. There's one left before holy fire is all that's protecting it."

"Can you strengthen them from here?" Dean asked, glancing at Cas in the rearview mirror.

"That's what he's been doing the whole ride, lover. He's going to need sleep when we stop too," Angel answered for him. "Before you ask, I can't help. They're his wards and I lent him the strength I can spare already. You'll need somebody to watch while you rest."

"Any news on help?" Sam asked.

"Not unless you've had any. Balthazar still hasn't called, I haven't talked to Crowley, and Cas got a broken wing from his last attempt to find friends," Angel replied. "Bobby's the popular one. Have you had any luck?"

"There aren't any hunters fool enough to take on an archangel that aren't in this car," Bobby pointed out with irritation. Dean chuckled and soon started to laugh, Sam laughing with him.

"Hey, we've done it before. We'll figure it out," Dean said when managed to control his laughter. Cas and Angel shared a look. They envied the faith of mortals.

...

"On the run?" Balthazar asked as he appeared in the bar Angel had been visiting.

"Sh, not at the moment. Everyone was asleep and I needed a break from watching," she replied, winking at him. She waved the bartender over and gestured for Balthazar to pick out a drink. "I'll pay for whatever you want since I still owe you, apparently."

"Why don't we go over to one of the booths so we can talk?" Balthazar suggested after ordering. They carried their drinks over, the people in the furthest booth getting up and leaving without seeming to know why. They took the vacated seats and eyed each other carefully.

"So, to what do I owe this unexpected surprise, lover?" Angel asked before downing her glass and waving the bartender for another.

"I've considered what you said. As much as I despise Cassie for going crazy and killing me, Raphael with a mad archangel in his hands will be worse," he answered.

"Finally, some good news. Are you throwing your lot in with the whiny Winchesters or do you just want to work with your most-damned sister?" Angel asked with a relieved sigh.

"Once I analyze the risks more thoroughly, I'll answer that, but probably you. Every additional person to protect means less attention I can keep to myself," he answered. Angel nodded.

"How were you planning on analyzing the risks? I can give you my interpretation of the facts, if you want. They aren't pretty, but I'm confident I can keep at least most of them alive. Cas will be a good, willing sacrifice if necessary."

"If you're willing to sacrifice him, your odds have to look better than I predicted. What are your plans for now?" Balthazar asked.

"When the humans get up, I'm going to suggest doubling back east to see if Bobby's house is safe. We're going to need more weapons and, if you're willing to help, you could hide them for us. There's only so much that can fit in that ridiculous car with five of us," she informed him. "We'll regroup there or elsewhere and then plan our defense. We need to get more help before we plan an attack."

"And here I thought I was special. Who else are you planning on getting help from?" he asked.

"Cas is trying to make friends with some old allies, but it hasn't been going well. I've been doing a bit of work on Crowley to get Hell on our side. I hate to work with him, but he's easy for me to control and we've got to do something. Cas has been next to useless so far, so it's up to me," she answered. "If you're up to helping, I'm sure Cas would submit to some terrible punishment if you desired it. He's already beating himself up and he's desperate for friends, the fool."

"Tempting, but his debt to me is more useful. I'm hedging my bets, remember?" Balthazar pointed out. Angel nodded.

"What else would I expect, lover? Now, you could've told me that over the phone. Your visit suggests you want me to pay back that little debt I have. How many do you want and what type?" she asked. "I can get whatever and whoever you want and I'd be glad to help repay the debt personally if that's what you would prefer. What's your poison?"

"It'll take some considering with all the options you give. Why don't we go back to the flat I commandeered while I decide?" Balthazar suggested. Angel nodded.

"Sure thing. It isn't like the humans or Cassie boy will be up for hours anyway. Exhaustion and drugs'll do that."

...

 **Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me, just my character Angel and bits of the plot.**

...

"I agree we should go back east. Angel's right about the weapons," Sam said. Dean and Cas were leading the resistance against him and Angel. Bobby hadn't said anything yet.

"What good would it do? We can't fit any more into the car," Dean protested.

"That's where I come in," Balthazar informed them, materializing on the couch next to Angel. She offered him a drink of her whisky and turned in the chair to put her legs across his lap as the others recovered from the surprise of seeing him.

"Balthazar's offered to hide the weapons for us and, no, I didn't sell any of your souls," she informed them.

"Why the distrusting faces? You would think I never risked my neck to help you before," Balthazar commented.

"They made the same face the last time I offered to protect them personally. They trust _that one_ , but not us. How hurtful, eh, lover?" Angel remarked, gesturing toward Castiel. Balthazar nodded at her. Their theatrics produced the desired effect of making the others react.

"You're hiding weapons for us?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"Well, not _now_ , but I will when you get them. Angel can access the ones you need as you need them," he answered.

"Why are you agreeing to help us? Cas killed you," Dean pointed out.

"Yes, don't remind me of the reasons I shouldn't. Your friend is rather persuasive and there's little harm in holding weapons for you. Consider this me playing it safe," Balthazar answered easily. "If you'd rather I left, however—."

"No, we can discuss this. You hide weapons for us and we pay you back how?" Bobby asked, eyes narrowed.

"Consider it a gift out of the kindness of my heart," Balthazar answered with a shrug. Angel grinned behind her bottle of whisky. Goodwill had nothing to do with it and they all knew it.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, lovers," she warned them before turning her attention to Cas. "You're being uncharacteristically quiet. Shouldn't you say something to your own brother?"

"I have nothing to say that would change anything," Cas answered, avoiding Balthazar's gaze. Angel and Balthazar shared a look. Cas's avoidance served their purposes well. It meant he wouldn't look too closely and get suspicious if Balthazar found it prudent to play double agent.

"Well, if that's all, there's a flat in Bangkok I have a reservation for," Balthazar announced, popping out of the room. Angel took a long draught of whisky while they stared at her.

"That's that, then, pets. We need the weapons and we have a way of keeping them safe and getting them when we need them, so we should go back and get what we can," she announced, throwing her legs onto the floor in readiness to get up.

"How did you convince Balthazar to help us? He hates Cas and, by default, doesn't like us," Sam asked. Angel shrugged.

"Why do you think I needed an extra credit card, sweet roll? I can be very persuasive," she replied lightly. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, can we trust him not to take the weapons and run? He has a history of double-crossing his allies," he asked.

"He won't double-cross me, lover. Don't expect him to rescue any of us if we get in trouble, but he'll keep the weapons safe for us and I'll be able to get them when we need them," she assured them. "Anyway, we need to get moving. Raphael will be steering Dena toward us soon and it'll be much easier for them to catch us if we stay in one spot. Those hexes can't protect against all types of observation."

...

"They made a mess of it, if nothing else," Angel remarked drily as they opened the door to Bobby's house. It looked like a tornado had swept through. The neat stash of weapons they had left was strewn across the room along with everything else. "At least nothing appears to be missing. I'll start taking everything I can to Balthazar's."

"You need sleep. I will guard the house," Cas informed the humans as Angel bustled about the room. Sam and Dean glanced at Bobby. He was clearly upset that his home was destroyed, but he could spot most of the important sentimental treasures he had left behind and soon settled on being angry more than upset.

"We'll stop them, Bobby," Dean assured him.

"Damn right we will. Who gave them the right to come in my house and throw my things around? They'll pay for this," he replied before picking up a picture frame. The frame was cracked, but the picture of him and his wife underneath was unharmed.

"We can clean up after we rest. C'mon," Sam pressed. Together, the brothers convinced Bobby to go upstairs with them. Cas went outside to inspect the wards. It had felt like they had taken their time to break them, which Cas figured probably wasn't too far off. Raphael would've known he was using what power he could to strengthen them as they fled. He was hoping the time had made them leave clues behind as well. He needed to know what power Raphael had over Dena and if it could be broken. Raphael would be a much more minor problem without the horror Dena posed.

Cas found his suspicions confirmed. There was evidence of great power wasted in draining his. If he read the signs right, it was Raphael himself who had done so much to weaken him. He suspected it was nothing more than a show of force, but it worried him nonetheless. What if Raphael had come back stronger than ever? How would they face him if he'd gained new power? Cas continued his inspection with a new sense of worry. He'd heard of archangels using the distinctness of an angel's Grace to track them, even if they had Enochian sigils in place to protect themselves.

If it was possible, they could be in trouble. Both he and Angel had used their powers to form and strengthen those wards. He decided to wait for her to return before he worried about it. Too many things in life had supported his survival for him to give up so easily. They would find a way to overcome that advantage, if it existed. He was sure of it, or at least he tried to tell himself he was.

...

"Crowley, long time no see. Why are you here?" Angel asked as she returned to Bobby's house after a bar visit to find Crowley sitting at the kitchen counter.

"I thought I would see how the angel problem was going. You haven't contacted me lately," he answered. He gestured toward the bottle of gin she had on the table and she nodded, providing glasses for the two of them. "They're asleep and Cas is gone, so I thought it would be a good time to visit."

"I've got a few minutes. Have you managed to approach Dena yet to see if you could regain control?" she asked, taking the glass he offered her. He shook his head.

"No, I can't get anyone close enough to test anything. Raphael keeps getting in the way," he answered her.

"Yeah, he's a pain in the ass. As soon as I figure out how to break whatever hold he has on Dena, though, it's game over. He may be more powerful than me, but he would underestimate me and I have enough allies to take him down. Although the loan of a few Hellhounds wouldn't go amiss," she hinted. Crowley nodded.

"You can have them if you need them. I want to see Raphael go down too," he assured her.

"Good. I've almost rebuilt Cas's old team now, without as many angels, of course, but everyone's actually loyal to me and I'll be able to keep it that way. The fool knows nothing about networking," she remarked. "You need to try to get to Dena somehow, pet. Angels have been taught to kill me on contact or I would try something myself. I don't want to be stuck working this job forever."

"You could always come back to Hell," Crowley reminded her. She smirked.

"And terrorize the depths once again? No, I'm tired of being Hell-Mistress. If I return, it will be in a way that leaves no doubt of whose power put me there," she told him. "Besides, I plan to be far away from here before there's a chance Daddy will escape. I'll die before I risk being tormented by him again. I should think you would be running too, lover. He wouldn't be happy with what you've been doing."

"Not least of all you," he remarked. She rolled her eyes.

"He wouldn't care either way for that. Even in Hell, he let me seek my pleasure as I chose so long as I also furthered his control with the liaisons he picked. How do you know I wasn't using you, lover? I've certainly made myself scarce since," she replied lightly. "But, no, he wouldn't be happy at you calling yourself the King of Hell. That's a title he loved dearly—not to mention the power that went with it. I'm still surprised you could control such a diverse population of demons. I expected a few uprisings before now."

"I was the natural choice. I already commanded the crossroads demons, which were the main source of income for Hell, and I had the necessary skills," Crowley shrugged.

"Of course, lover," Angel murmured with a roll of her eyes. "Now, if you haven't any information about Dena and Raphael, I suggest you make your exit. Cas will be back soon and I'm not paid enough to mediate between the two of you."

"No mediation would be necessary. I don't attack someone when I can hold something over them instead," Crowley assured her.

"It's good you've learned the usefulness of that, pet. Nonetheless, leave. There isn't enough alcohol or other intoxicants here for me to be willing to deal with that. Call me when you find something out about Dena," Angel instructed. Crowley finished his glass and stared at her for a moment before nodding in agreement. His suspicions seemed true. She was avoiding him for all she was worth. Now he just had to decide why. It could mean the difference between living and dying.

...

"We've got a problem," Sam announced after glancing out Bobby's living room window. The feeling of the ground shaking left little doubt of what the problem was. "Where are Cas and Angel?"

"Who knows? Call her while I get Cas," Dean instructed quickly as the two and Bobby scattered for the weapons and defenses they had on hand. They knew it wouldn't be enough, but they didn't have another choice.

"I leave you alone for five minutes and you find this much trouble. What am I going to do with you, lovers?" Angel sighed as she materialized in the room. She opened the front door and ran some mental calculations quickly. "They'll impact on the outskirts of town in two minutes and be here in four. From what I can tell, they're taking their time mocking us now. Clearly, Dena's regained the ability to teleport. Their time-wasting may give us just enough of a chance to mount a defense. We need Cas. Where the hell is he?"

"Here," Cas answered, dropping into the living room.

"Good, that'll give us another second of existence. How are we playing this?" Angel asked, looking toward the others. There was a moment when everyone stared at each other in uncertainty before Dean reluctantly stepped forward to give everyone instructions. Everyone headed outside at his instructions, Angel and Cas working on setting up some quick wards to support the ones they'd already been working on. Bobby, Sam, and Dean set up a base of defense on the front porch with the weapons they thought would prove most useful. Castiel's work in gathering holy oil gave them three vases to work with. Dean told them only to use them if they had to.

"Can you tell if Raphael's with her?" Bobby asked Cas. Cas squinted into the oncoming storm of light.

"No, he's not. Dena is alone," he answered.

"Raphael's probably hanging back to pick off the survivors in case we beat her," Angel muttered. "There's not enough time for me to get more of our weapons and Crowley wouldn't be able to get any Hellhounds to us for a good ten minutes. If we're going to lose, we'll already be dead by then."

"We'll make do with what we've got. We've beat worse odds before," Dean replied. Angel and Cas shared a look.

"Look sharp. Here she comes," Angel murmured. The windows of the house made a terrible sound as the trembling ground threatened to shake the house down. "Cas, try talking to her. She might listen to you."

"What am I supposed to say?" Cas asked before Angel shoved him out of the innermost circle of wards. The pillar of light condensed into the form of a human woman a few feet away from Cas. Dena's vessel was an innocent-looking short blonde wearing a white dress. "Hello, Dena."

"Castiel, you and the people you are hiding have been weighed in the balance and found wanting. Submit yourselves to judgment," Dena said, her voice as soft as her look. It was so at odds with the real threat behind her words that everyone paused. Angel saw that Cas didn't know how to respond and stepped out beside him.

"Found wanting by _whom_? Not Daddy Dearest. He's been silent for ages now," she remarked, grabbing Cas's arm in preparation to throw both of them back into the safety of the wards. She would have a hard time escaping if her brother died before the battle even began.

"By Raphael, the leader of Heaven," Dena answered, looking at Angel oddly. "You were one of us once, but you are no longer."

"Yeah, something like that, pet, but why don't you go home now and we can discuss it another day?" Angel suggested. Dena's eyes began to glow and Angel threw herself and Cas behind the wards just before the light impacted on the invisible wall they had erected. "Or not. Looks like we're fighting this one after all."

"It was worth a shot. Everyone ready?" Dean asked. Everyone nodded, angel blades ready. Dean wished, not for the first time, that he still had the Colt, but he didn't know where on the planet or off it that it could be. "Bobby, Sam, be ready with that holy oil. If Cas and Angel can't take her out, we're going to need it."

"You want us to focus on that instead of the blades?" Bobby asked, looking longingly at the nearest jar. Dean paused for a moment and the first ward popped with a crack like thunder.

"Yeah. We aren't going to get close enough for these," he decided, tossing his own blade to the side. He joined the two on the porch and grabbed the third oil vase. Cas and Angel stood in the yard, blades poised and ready, waiting.

"I'm getting at least five credit cards after this, right, sweet roll?" Angel called over her shoulder.

"And a bottle of the purest alcohol money can buy," he returned. She smiled and turned back toward the oncoming archangel. There were only two wards to go before she could reach them and the second was ready to burst.

"Go to her left. I'll distract her," Cas whispered quickly before the second ward fizzled out with another loud crack. Angel nodded imperceptibly, her hand tightening around her blade. It seemed like everyone held their breath in the impossibly long moment it took for the third ward to break. The moment it did, all Hell broke loose. Angel darted to her right as Cas shot forward toward the archangel. He fell back with a groan as the archangel raised her hand. Another movement shot Angel off to the side harmlessly.

"Now!" Dean shouted. Three vases of holy oil shot into the air, appearing like hundreds as the quick tricks of Cas and Angel took effect. If God still heard the prayers of his children, He heard a wild cry then as all of them plead for one vase to strike true. They'd heard God worked in mysterious ways and an impact on Dena's arm making her scream seemed to support it. It lit on fire and she panicked, crying out in Enochian for Raphael to save her. A flash of light, a crack of thunder, and the archangel had vanished from their sight.

"It isn't mortal, but she's damaged. Raphael took her," Cas explained before anyone could ask. Cas and Angel both let their heads fall wearily back to the ground. For the moment, the battle was over.

"If it wasn't mortal, they'll be back. We need to get our defenses back up as quickly as possible," Sam reasoned. Angel glared at him.

"Being tossed around by an archangel isn't as pleasant as you seem to think, sugar. Cas and I are out. We need to recharge before we do anything," she informed him.

"Raphael won't attack without Dena. He wouldn't risk someone coming to our aid without help for himself," Cas commented, his voice gravelly from strain.

"Thank everything he's a coward," Angel muttered before sitting up slowly. "Let's get inside. It won't protect us if Raphael decides to prove us wrong, but it'll be more comfortable than the ground. Help me up, sweet roll. I'll be ready for another round once I drink that alcohol you promised me."

"I could use assistance," Cas remarked as Sam went to help Angel. The relief from surviving the encounter—even if it had been quick and they hadn't defeated their current biggest threat—put everyone in a good mood. Bobby and Dean helped Cas to the couch and Sam placed Angel beside him. The heavenly brother and Hellish sister sat back in mirroring positions.

"Bring Cas something too, eh, lover? Actually, bring me enough alcohol to actually _do_ something and I only need one more credit card for now," Angel murmured lazily. Cas nodded and the three hunters shared a look. As much as the idea of two drunk angels worried them, they had the distinct feeling that they'd earned it—angels and men. Dean and Bobby went to raid the liquor cabinet while Sam went to augment the supply. "Hey, do you remember that wine blessing you tried to teach me as a kid?"

"Yes. Now would be a good time to use it," Cas answered, following her line of thought.

"I could kiss you, brother mine. Why don't we show these humans how a real party goes?"

...

"Why didn't Cas ever use that blessing before?" Dean asked as he popped a few painkillers.

"Probably because it put everyone out for a week?" Sam suggested as he cracked his neck. Angel passed them to grab a bottle of bourbon off the counter.

"Poor, pitiful humans. You'd never make it through a party in Heaven. Sometimes I wish I'd been there long enough to experience one firsthand," she snickered. Cas popped into the kitchen.

"There is word that Raphael was spotted in Asia. Is Balthazar still located in Dubai?" he asked.

"I don't know, lover. I doubt he would check for us anyway. He's staying as uninvolved as possible, remember?" Angel answered, lifting the bottle to her lips. Cas opened his mouth to speak and she held up her hand. "I'll ask, pet, I just don't think it'll do much good."

"You should see if he has any holy oil while you speak with him. We need to gather as much as possible," he suggested. Angel nodded and reached into Sam's pocket for his phone.

"Don't you have one of your own?" Sam protested, feeling violated. Angel smiled over her shoulder at him as she headed toward the back door.

"Entertaining Balthazar makes him more likely to help and everyone thinks it's funny how jumpy you get when I grope you," she informed him. Dean laughed and then groaned as the pain in his head worsened. Sam shot him a look indicating he deserved whatever he got.

"If we want Balthazar's help, we should listen to Angel. She knows him better than I do," Cas informed them before leaving the room. Dean started snickering against despite the pain.

"Oh, God, Sam, these angels are going to be the death of all of us," he gasped.

"What are you two yammering about in here?" Bobby asked as he went to the cabinet to get some painkillers himself.

"Aw, nothing, Sam's just complaining about the unfairness of Angel feeling him up being part of her plan to keep us all alive," Dean explained between chuckles. "Personally, I think it could be worse for him."

"You want me to talk to her and see if I can get her to lay off it?" Bobby offered tiredly.

"No, I can handle it—her, I mean," Sam replied, his brow furrowing at his misspeak while Dean started wheezing from laughing so hard. "Shut up. Jerk."

"Oh, God, you're Angel's bitch now."

...

"Dena lost the arm and a lot of power, but word has it that her angelic healing wasn't compromised. She'll be powerful enough for another assault within the month," Balthazar informed them.

"And you waited a week to get back to us with this info?" Angel asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You wanted me to _get_ the information, didn't you?" Balthazar answered offhandedly. "Raphael's been staying with her. He's got a half dozen angels working for him to help her recover. One of them happened to owe me a debt or the cost would've been higher."

"I groped Sam for you!" Angel protested, sending Dean and Bobby into fits of snickers.

"It's not funny," Sam protested under his breath.

"Actually, it's one of the most amusing interactions of my acquaintance, but that's beside the point. I have a few bottles of holy oil we can negotiate about," Balthazar informed them. Angel sighed.

"What's it going to cost me this time?" she asked wearily, switching which leg she had crossed on top. Balthazar considered it for a moment, leaning back in Bobby's chair.

"Nothing—right now anyway. I've got everything I need at the moment and more than enough entertainment to keep me occupied. I'll let you know when I call to collect," he decided.

"No deal, lover. I'll find more holy oil for myself," Angel shook her head.

"Suit yourself, but there isn't much left outside of angels' private stocks and mine's the most extensive," Balthazar replied.

"Hey, I have no problem being a thief. I was in Hell a long time, remember? I'll break into somebody's stores and not owe anyone a damn thing. If that's all you had to share, Balthazar, I'll thank you to go. I'm busy, Cas killed you, and the hunters don't really like you that much," she informed him as she stood up and stretched.

"What kind of stick does she have stuck up her ass?" Balthazar asked with a disbelieving chuckle. Angel made a rude gesture at him before popping out of the room.

"She gets upset when she saves our lives," Sam explained in a dark mutter.

"Well, take one for the team, sleep with her, and get it out if you can. I already agreed to work with her," Balthazar remarked, standing up. "Anyway, she's right about my presence here. There are other places where I'm much more wanted and I _do_ like to feel wanted."

"I'm sure. We need to get back to work anyway. Why don't you save us all the trouble next time and just call?" Sam suggested.

"If I do, it'll be your number and I'll expect Angel to answer. I won't share anything otherwise," Balthazar smirked before popping out of the room.

"Of all the angels in Heaven, we're working with him. Why?" Sam groaned, leaning back with his eyes closed and massaging his temples.

"Hey, any angel's better than no angel at this point," Dean pointed out. Sam shot him a look and he grinned. "Besides, Sammy, don't you appreciate all the attention you're getting now?"

"Yeah," Sam muttered sarcastically.

"Speaking of angels, where's Cas?" Bobby asked, looking at Dean. Dean shrugged.

"Dunno. He was going to check on a holy oil stash he remembered," he answered, glancing at the clock. "He should be back soon."

"Hopefully with some holy oil with him. That bottle he found yesterday won't be enough to stop them if they come back," Bobby remarked. "God knows how we're going to win this."

"Maybe we aren't," Dean stated. "It would be ironic for an archangel to off us after Lucifer and the apocalypse didn't, though."

"It's looked as hopeless before and we've always survived—well, we've died a few times, especially you, but not permanently," Sam pointed out. "We'll figure it out. Nothing's stopped us before."

"Yeah, and look where winning's got us. Every time we beat something, something bigger comes at us," Bobby commented.

"Not this time. An angelic duo has got to be less than the apocalypse," Sam stressed.

"Nah, we had people to play off each other in the apocalypse. How are we going to do that now?" Dean asked, cracking his neck absently.

"We just need to get something over Dena and we can use her to take out Raphael. I think we need to talk to Crowley again," Sam reasoned. Dean groaned and Bobby shook his head.

"How about you take care of that plan yourself, Sam?" Bobby suggested. "Hell knows I'm not going to."

...

"Oh, I was going to be so angry if you dropped that," Angel commented as Cas nearly fumbled the vase of holy oil she'd shot at him from where she sat crisscross on the Impala's roof. "I've got three others, but that's all I've found so far."

"I found two. This gives us twice the number we had in the last battle," Cas stated, putting the small vase into an inner coat pocket. "Have you thought about a plan?"

"I already told you that's on you, lover. You're the one with war experience. I'm here for the grunt work and anything shady or morally questionable," Angel reminded him. Cas sighed and sat down on the hood of the car. "What are you thinking?"

"We need to separate them. Even if the one we separate does not work with us, we will have a better chance of breaking the other," Cas reasoned.

"That's what everybody's been saying, lover, but how are we supposed to separate them? Short of capturing Dena like Crowley did, I don't see much hope of splitting them up," Angel asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't know. They were fond of you. Perhaps you could use that against Dena," Cas offered. Angel snorted.

"Yeah, she'll be real keen on me after I permanently injured her," she said with a roll of her eyes. "You'll have to come up with something else."

"Can you get the details of her capture from Crowley?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course I can, pet. I already know a bit of it," she answered. "Anyway, what else are you going to do? I know you've got to be smarter than to trust to Crowley as your only way forward."

"I will continue to find my holy oil and search for any other heavenly weaponry I could find," he informed her. After a moment, he looked up at her with a half-hopeful, half-irritated expression. "Crowley was the last individual known to have the Colt. Can you get it from him?"

"If he's got it, sure. That's still relying on him, though. You need a better plan then sending me begging favors from Crowley and trying to dig up weaponry that Raphael probably has possession of," Angel pointed out.

"What do you want me to say? I don't know what else to do," Cas answered. Angel shrugged.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help, lover," she soothed. "Dean's been looking for you, not that he's said anything. He's worried about Sam. That mental barrier's about to break and he can sense it."

"There is nothing I can do. Did you tell him that?" he asked.

"Nah, I figured that was a fight for you to handle yourself. He's not going to believe it. We all have to believe in something, y'know, and he just happens to believe in you," she answered. "I'm surprised with how many times you've let him down, but it's true. He's going to be disappointed when he realizes you can't save his little Sammy."

"He should not believe in me," Cas stated quietly. Angel shrugged.

"Eh, it's less crazy than all of you believing I'm some sort of reluctant hero. Go talk to your boyfriend while I see what Crowley's got. If he's got the Colt or anything else that might work against one of them, I'll bring it back with me. I might ring up Balthazar afterward and I'm definitely going drinking, so tell them not to expect me back until sometime tomorrow," she informed him, stretching before sliding to the ground. Cas stood up as Angel popped out of existence, pondering her words. In truth, he had given up after his defeat and the anger he had faced and that was unwise. Trusting her was a terribly decision and he was beginning to remember that fact. He walked up the stairs and entered the unlocked door.

"They're in the kitchen," Bobby informed him as he entered the living room.

"Thanks," Cas replied, walking past him. Upon entering the kitchen, Cas found Sam on his computer and Dean cleaning a gun on the table. "Angel left to meet with Crowley. She said she was going drinking afterward and would not return until tomorrow."

"She hasn't been out for three days. I'm surprised she made it that long," Sam commented without looking up.

"I have the holy oil that we've recovered," Cas informed them. Dean glanced at his brother before setting down the gun and standing up.

"Let's get 'em put away, then," he suggested. Cas followed him downstairs to Bobby's bomb shelter, where they'd been hiding most of their supplies. "How many we got now?"

"Six vases," Cas answered. "Angel said you wanted to talk about Sam."

"Yeah, I was wondering if you could do anything about his mind. The wall's cracking," Dean answered, taking the vases from Cas to put them on the back of an empty shelf.

"There is nothing I can do, Dean. I don't have Death's power," Cas answered him, forewarned by Angel to be ready for an argument. Dean surprised him with a resigned sigh.

"Yeah, I kinda figured. Can you do anything if it does break?" he asked. Cas hadn't considered the options before and stopped to think about them.

"I could separate his insanity and transfer it to another individual," he finally decided.

"You could do that?" Dean asked, turning toward him.

"Yes. It would most likely be most successful if transferred to my own mind. I am most likely to survive the process," Cas informed him.

"Most likely? What chances would you give?" Dean asked. Cas considered it for a moment, trying a few different calculation sets before deciding which was most accurate.

"I calculate a 75% chance of survival," he answered, choosing not to comment on exactly what sort of survival that would be likely to be.

"Those aren't the best odds, Cas," Dean commented. Cas could see that he was considering it nonetheless and knew that he would rather make the decision himself. If he chose to risk his life, he would rather do it of his own free will rather than seeing one of his only friends send him to the chopping block.

"Nonetheless, it is a risk I am prepared to take. Sam's chances are significantly lower," he answered. "I may be able to use myself as a conduit through which to dissipate the damage."

"If you can do that, does that mean nobody will be hurt?" Dean asked.

"Permanently, yes. Both Sam and I would be temporarily impacted," Cas answered.

"How likely is that plan to work?"

"Less. 35-40%, depending on the extent of the damage and my strength at the time."

"Is there anything we could do to improve those odds?"

"Not that doesn't involve the souls or Graces of others and that is not recommended."

"What if they were willingly given—to be borrowed?"

"No, Dean. It's too dangerous."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me, just my character Angel and bits of the plot.**

...

"You gave me almost three minutes' warning this time," Crowley stated as Angel popped into the room, waving his phone in her general direction. She threw herself back onto his couch with a sigh.

"I thought I'd be nice," she explained.

"We both know that's not true," Crowley remarked, eliciting a smile from her. "What do you need?"

"Scotch, sex, Dena's capture, the Colt. Not necessarily in that order, but the scotch would be a nice beginning," Angel remarked, not opening her eyes. "Maybe someone to torture as well. I've been entirely too friendly lately."

"I could arrange someone for you to torture while we talk," he offered. She sat up and smiled her dangerous smile.

"I knew it was a good idea to come see you, lover. Scotch too?" she asked. He chuckled and handed her the glass he had been pouring. "Mm, thank you, pet. You're going to spoil me."

"Hardly," Crowley replied as he opened his phone and called for one of his guards. When the demon arrived, he trapped it in a devil's trap and gestured toward it. "Feel free to do whatever damage you want. I have other guards."

"It must be Christmas," Angel murmured. Crowley sat down to watch as she set to work, her patient torture eliciting screams of agony.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?" Crowley asked when the screams had temporarily receded to whimpers.

"Like I said, Dena and the Colt. We need _something_ to stop her. Do you still have the Colt?" she asked.

"Yes, but I'd rather not give it up," he answered.

"I only want to borrow it, lover. You know guns aren't really my style," she remarked.

"Yes, I know," Crowley stated drily, the sound drowned out as Angel more vigorously began torturing the demon again. She laughed as it screamed, the sounds of tinkling and abject pain mingling in an uncanny way.

"If I kill it, can I have another?" she asked, separating the layers of skin on the demon's stomach absently, cutting different shapes out of each layer.

"I _do_ need guards," Crowley pointed out. Angel sighed and placed the layers of skin back onto the demon's abdomen, a star on the top layer showing bits of the other cut outs beneath.

"I'll make this one last, then. So, can I borrow the Colt?" she asked, turning away from the mutilated demon to look at Crowley. Her shirt and arms were covered with blood from her work.

"What if I were to join you long enough to use it? I don't want it out of my hands," he suggested.

"Sure, but you'll have to come at my call. Who knows what you'll have to drop, lover? Do you really want to agree to that?" she asked.

"Better than it being out of my possession. I can agree—for a price," he answered.

"You damn people and your damn prices," Angel muttered, sticking a hand into the demon's abdomen where she'd carved it. "What's your price?"

"Come to Hell with me for a day. Torture a few subversives, show your support for me as king," Crowley answered. The demon being tortured screamed in agony as silken fingers twisted its intestines into knots.

"I don't want to be involved in Hell's politics," Angel reminded him. He shrugged.

"I don't want the Colt to be visible. It's the best deal I'll offer," he informed her. She pouted.

"I could take the beating heart out of you just as easily as I could this demon's," she muttered. Crowley shrugged.

"And then you'd never find the Colt. You wouldn't have the patience to torture the information out of me if you were angry and it'd be much easier to accept my proposal anyway," he pointed out.

"Fine," Angel sighed. "A day in Hell securing your power for your immediate answering of my call and successful killing of one or both of the archangels I'm fighting when I need it. And this will be a sealed contract, not one of our little verbal agreements. I'm not giving you the chance to back out of it."

"Fine. I'll draw it up," Crowley agreed, summoning the necessary implements. Once it was finished and they had both tweaked it to their desire, Angel ripped the heart from the demon she was tormenting and set it on top of the demon's chest, so close to giving it life, yet so far away. When she turned around, Crowley saw that blood had spirted over her face and into her hair from the action.

"Its lifeblood will strengthen the contract's binding," she explained, licking the blood spatters off her lips. "I agree to the terms. Do you?"

"Yes," Crowley agreed. Angel stood up and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was businesslike for all of three seconds before it heated up. When Angel pulled back, Crowley was covered with every bit as much blood as she was.

"Good deal. You should keep the Colt handy. According to Balthazar's last report, Dena should be to her full power—well, her _new_ max level, since I did manage _some_ permanent damage—within the month. We don't know when they'll attack," she informed him, wiping away a drop of blood that was trying to drip down her neck. "What about capturing her? Can you tell me how you managed it and if you think it would be possible to repeat it?"

"It was an elaborate trap. A bit of witchcraft, a virgin sacrifice, the plea of a child to call the angel forth. I trapped her in holy oil when she arrived, used some of Lucifer's work to trap her into her physical form, and then used a combination of witchcraft, poisoning, and holy oil to weaken her enough that she couldn't pop away. That would've been rude of her and I couldn't allow it," he answered. "She wouldn't fall for the trap again. It was only good luck that made her fall for it the first time. She should still be trapped in her vessel, though. That work won't break until I make it."

"Hopefully Raphael doesn't figure that out. We'd both hate it if I had to guard you 24/7," Angel remarked. She seemed to notice the blood covering him and looked down at herself. "Guess I need a shower before I go drinking tonight. Mind if I borrow yours when we're finished talking?"

"Of course not. I can send another guard to fetch something for you to wear, if you'd like," Crowley offered.

"That would be nice. Low-backed or backless for the top. Anything else is up to the guard's creativity—or your own, if you feel like playing dressing-maid," she smirked. "But you really have nothing else to offer me against Dena? Nothing to help me fight her?"

"Just the Colt and the possibility that seeing me again might break her concentration or frighten her," he answered. "Of course, our contract says nothing about me being visible in the fight. I could fire the Colt from anywhere."

"Unless we make another deal? What would this one cost me?" Angel asked, wiping some of the blood from her face with a kitchen towel.

"Go drinking with me tonight. The more we're seen together, the more strongly I hold power in Hell," he informed her.

"What time do you define 'tonight' as ending?" she asked cautiously. "I get…fidgety if I don't get the alcohol and sex I've planned. And I told Cassie boy I was going to meet up with Balthazar before I returned tomorrow."

"You can meet Balthazar tomorrow morning. I can handle the rest," Crowley answered calmly. Angel snorted.

"Oh, you can _handle_ inebriating and sleeping with me, can you, lover? Send someone after new clothes for me—and you better make sure I'm decked out nicely—and I'll go take that shower. You don't have any other deal to offer to weasel your way into that, do you?" she asked.

"If I do, I'll let you know."

"Go fuck yourself, lover."

"Why would I do that when I'll have you later?"

"You're a piece of shit bastard, Crowley. You enter that bathroom at your own risk until I'm out."

...

"I got three more bottles from Balthazar and Crowley'll show up with the Colt when we need him. I know, I know, I'm a miracle worker," Angel announced as she slammed the front door shut behind her. She didn't even pause in the living room, where Bobby, Cas, and Dean were seated, instead heading straight to the kitchen. The open bottle of gin on the counter was calling her name and she had no intensions of ignoring it. "Yo, sweet roll. Do you live in here on your laptop?"

"It's quieter in here," he answered, not looking up. He shook his head at the sound of her opening the gin.

"I can feel you judging me, lover. The angel of judgment's our current big bad. Be careful you don't accidentally call her," Angel cautioned in her most careless voice.

"Would that really work?" Sam asked, looking up for the first time. Angel shrugged as she plopped into the seat opposite him.

"Judgment's judgment, innit?" she pointed out. "Righteous judgment condemning my actions would be the sort of call that would fly to her, too, quick as a prayer."

"So, what? I'm supposed to just accept your vices?" Sam asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

"You could. You shared them with me once upon a time, lover. But, no, the easier path would just be to ignore them. It isn't like anyone in this house is a saint," she answered.

"What was I like when I was soulless, really?" Sam asked.

"You drank and slept around with the best of them. You even slept with me—and more than once. I know that must hurt your soul to know, sweet roll, but so it was. You were nothing like you are now. Not even your mannerisms were the same. And Dean, boy, did he hate me for encouraging you. Now he hates me for reminding you of all that. He didn't like what you had become. He couldn't reconcile it to the little brother he loved and he felt alone. The last thing he wants if for the wall to break and to be left alone again," she informed him.

"So he wanted my soul back so much just to give him a few more weeks of time with me as his brother?" Sam asked.

"Seems like it, eh, pet? He's still hoping Cas can save you now, but he can't. Death might be able to strengthen that wall, but he won't," she told him. "You better be a Helluva lot stronger than I think if you want to survive it."

"Maybe. I might surprise you," he argued with a shrug. Angel glanced at him as she downed another gulp of gin.

"Maybe, but I doubt it," she stated. "I've been around a bit longer than you. Anyway, I should get the holy oil I'm packing put up and head out. If they ask where I'm at, lover, tell them I'll be back Friday. I've got a few payments to make."

"Payments?" Sam asked, wondering what would keep her gone for three days.

"A day in Hell and the orgy of Balthazar's dreams. Make sure there's plenty of liquor handy when I get back, lover. I'm going to need it."

"I'm sorry I asked."

...

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do you mean Raphael agreed to meet with you?" Dean demanded of Cas, jumping off the hood of the car so quickly he nearly fell. "You didn't agree, did you? That's suicide!"

"Or the way to end this. I might be able to arrange something," Cas answered.

"Arrange _what_ , Cas? He hates all of us and he sure as Hell isn't going to abandon his plans to kill us after talking to you," Dean protested.

"We don't know if he hates all of us that much. He may just be after me," Cas reasoned.

"So it _is_ suicide. Cas, we need you. There are more angels against us than we can face by ourselves—not to mention the demons and monsters and whatever the hell else is out there."

"You have Angel."

"Yeah, a mercenary that's working for us because she sort of wants to talk to God. The second she finds another way to do that, she'll drop us or maybe kill us herself. No, we need you, Cas, if we're going to survive long enough to find God and make him fix this."

"Speaking to Raphael will cause no harm. It's worth a try, Dean."

"Only if it doesn't get you killed. We've lost too many— _I_ 've lost too many—and I'm sick and tired of it. I'm not losing another, Cas. I'm not losing you. Not to something this stupid."

"I give you my word that I will return from the talk. Is that better?"

"God, Cas, I can't believe you're gonna try something this stupid. At least tell us before you go. We can always send Angel to help you out if things go bad."

"Fine. Raphael suggested the beginning of next month. I told him I would return with a day. He will provide the location."

"You better be coming back from it."

"I will."

...

"I might have more. What do you have to offer, Cassie?" Balthazar asked, directing Cas to sit down in the chair opposite him.

"What do you want?" Cas asked. Balthazar considered for a moment before smiling.

"You don't have Angel's skills in negotiation, Cassie," he chuckled. "You never give your opponent the upper hand that way."

"You know where we stand. Pretending to have something more than I did wouldn't help anything," Cas answered. Balthazar nodded.

"I suppose that's fair. What are you _prepared_ to give me for the holy oil?"

"Whatever you want. Dena is strengthening and we will need all that we can find."

"Whatever I want, huh? That's a big, empty promise, Cas. I could ask for anything."

"If it is in my power, I will—."

"Be careful with your offers, Cas. I might hold you to them. Angel got as much as I'm willing to give up for now. I'll sell later when you're more desperate. Send Angel next time. She's more fun."

"I was hoping to arrange this without involving her."

"Oh, getting cold feet, are you? I wonder if she knows about that."

"She warned me about herself."

"I believe it of her. For someone with so much self-preservation, she's very self-destructive. You and your buddies, Cassie, you're all self-destructive because you're all for self-sacrifice. I've got the self-preservation to keep myself alive. I'd say I'm the wisest of you all."

"Probably. Will you help us?"

"I'm already helping enough, aren't I? We'll discuss it later. I have an appointment to keep."

...

"I give it a week before it disintegrates," Angel theorized, setting down her bottle of vodka in preparation of Dean's argument.

"Cas gives it a month. You just want it to break," he protested.

"It's better than everybody walking on eggshells all the time around him. You knew it was going to happen, lover. You need to get ready for it instead of pretending it's never gonna break," she disagreed.

"Yeah, well, it would last longer if you didn't keep poking at it!" he argued.

"You want to control my behavior, you gotta pay a _whole_ lot more, pet. That wall isn't helping anyone and I want to see what happens anyway."

"You want him to go crazy or die?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Nobody said that was guaranteed, lover. There's a chance he'll be fine—well, as fine as anyone is after ceaseless torture in Hell," Angel answered with a shrug.

"I don't want him to be fine if that's your version of it. I want him to stay like he is now."

"Oh, you mean curious and nervous and terrified of his own mind killing him?"

"No, I mean sane and safe."

"How boring. You know it is. He struggles against it for himself and you do for yourself. Why do you think you can't stand me, Dean Winchester? I represent the free one—the one insane and unsafe to the extent of being capable of appearing the opposite. Sam feels the same way, more or less, but you can't get rid of me for one simple reason: if I can be redeemed, you all can and that's what you want more than anything. You want to feel whole and holy, if only for a second. That's why Cas is searching for God—that's why you've all prayed at some time before. But I'm a corruptive influence and you hate it—you hate me and you hate that you're attracted to me.

"No, don't protest, pet; you'll only prove my point. Before this is all said and done, you'll act on it too—and you'll hate yourself even more. You think you can't hate yourself more, but you will and you'll do one of two things: you'll give up completely and stop even pretending as little as you are now or you'll throw yourself completely into finding God in one last ditch effort to get that redemption you all seem to be so wired for. See, you all want to find God for that—I just want to get close enough to get my answers and maybe get a kick at him. Let Sam's mental barrier break and let him die in as much peace as he has now. That's the kindest thing you can do for him."

"Is that better than giving him a chance?"

"What chance, lover? The chance to hate his life as much as you hate yours? _If_ —and that's one of the biggest ifs I've ever spoken—he doesn't die or go insane when the barrier breaks, he might have that chance, but do you really want to give the chance to him if that's all he gets?"

"I'm not listening to this. Get out."

"Excuse me, pet, but I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you just attempt to throw out your high-quality mercenary?"

"Fine, I'll get out. Leave Sammy alone while I'm gone."

"Sure, lover, sure, but don't expect me to be nice about it when you get back. I'll tear that wall down myself."

...

"Why don't you buy this one? This is some good, aged whisky," Angel suggested, holding a small bottle up to Sam. He grabbed it and threw it in his basket. "Ooh, careful, lover, you'll spoil me. You're being so generous today. How many more can I have?"

"Five," Sam grumbled after glancing into the basket. Angel went back into the alcohol section gleefully as Sam continued toward the produce. He wasn't sure how he ended up stuck with her at the store, but he was certain it wouldn't happen again. His basket had ten bottles of various liquors already and none of the food he'd come for. Thunder sounded outside and Sam glanced up at the skylights in the ceiling.

"We need to leave. Now," Angel informed him, popping to his side suddenly. Just as quickly, they were outside and in the Impala. "Drive."

"What's going on?" Sam asked as he pulled out of the spot.

"Faster, sweet roll. Get out of the lot quickly," she instructed, turning in her seat to watch the store behind them. Seeing that the lot was mostly empty, Sam gunned it. They'd barely made it onto the road when the ground shook and lightening lit the sky.

"Dena?" he asked.

"Yeah, Dena, and she seems to be as recovered as Balthazar said. If we're lucky, she'll take a personal interest in destroying the supermarket and give us a chance to get back to the house. I'll call to warn them. You keep on the gas," she answered, grabbing Sam's phone from his pocket. The phone rang without an answer for several minutes, the only sound in the quiet car as they tried to get to safety. "Shit, no answer. Is the light still centered over the supermarket?"

"I can't see with all the trees. How far behind us do you think she is?" he asked.

"Depends. She doesn't feel close, but she's fast and, if Raphael taught her, she can trace a Grace and follow the trail right to me. The wards at the house will stall her long enough for us to grab some weapons. We're hopeless if she catches us now."

"Why can't you take us there like you did last time?"

"Cas wasn't there when we left and, if I'm the only angel, you're not going to want me to be any more drained than necessary. C'mon, lover, we've got to get there. I can't face her alone with only an angel blade."

"We're almost there," Sam assured her. She nodded and leaned out of the window of the car to try to see above the trees. Despite her statements that she could see nothing, Sam continued glancing in the rearview mirror. They were pulling up into the driveway when Angel let out a curse that sent a shiver of ice down Sam's spine.

"Get inside the house. Grab weapons. If anyone's there, get them ready to help," Angel commanded quickly, climbing onto the roof of the car through the window rather than opening her door. She jumped down onto the ground and stretched as Sam parked and ran inside. The trembling of the ground was growing in intensity, the light—blinding as the sun—was getting closer every moment. Angel stood in the yard and waited, thinking as quickly as she could.

Dena was less than a minute away. The lack of sounds coming from the house indicated she and Sam were most likely alone. One human with holy oil wouldn't be enough to kill Dena, no matter how she tried to distract the archangel for him. So she knew this was on her. They lived or died by her hand. She wondered if it would be easier to abandon Sam, but she knew that Dena would follow her and it was better for her last stand to be with support than to be alone. No, she couldn't run and all she had was a blade that she wasn't certain would even work against an archangel.

The smooth, cold blade was a comforting weight in her hand nonetheless. She wasn't helpless. Hopeless of winning the fight, perhaps, but not helpless. She calculated another twenty seconds before the archangel arrived and remembered Sam's phone in her pocket—a lifeline to call Crowley and get the Colt. She sent a quick message and dropped the phone, the time it would take to return it to her pocket too dangerous. She counted the seconds as she waited for the archangel to come. Crowley hadn't appeared. She was alone.

She didn't have a half-second of fear. Instead, it was anger. She _wasn't_ going to let an angel be the end of her—archangel or no. She'd been tortured by one of her siblings too long to let another end her. She watched the light approaching and dropped her blade, putting her hands together. If it was all going to end, it would be by her hand—not Dena's, not Raphael's, not anyone else's. She closed her eyes and focused only on summoning her strength. This was it.

Time seemed to slow. She could feel a rush of angelic energy coming toward her—Dena's killing blow—but it seemed to be so slow as she stood and gathered herself. She visualized taking every ounce of strength in her hands, gathering it into an infinitesimally small point. She opened her eyes and directed the pinpoint of power directly at the archangel. The power left her and she fell to her knees. The archangel vanished in an explosion of light.

Angel had half a moment to wonder if she'd killed her sister before the forever slow attack hit her. She fell backward, her legs still bent awkwardly behind her. The world looked odd and all she could hear was rushing wind. She wondered how long it would take her to die. She was so drained, so tired. How long did it take for the last drop of an angel's power to ebb? Would that even be the same for her? A pair of legs blocked her vision of Bobby's front porch.

"What happened?" Crowley asked. His voice brought her somewhat back to awareness, the dreamy dying haze suddenly changed to outright panic.

"Get me inside. Call for Sam," Angel instructed quickly. Too weak to stand on her own, she let the demon lift her from the ground and get her into the house, met quickly by Sam. "Get me to the safe room. Put the bed in the devil's trap and put me on it. Set up a holy oil circle."

"We'll keep you safe. Don't keep talking," Sam told her, feeling his worry rising. He ran downstairs ahead of them and got the bed into position, running to the shelf for one of their precious vases of holy oil. Crowley didn't hesitate before stepping into the devil's trap to get Angel to safety. As she felt the mattress beneath her, she waved her hand and a set of devil's traps circling the bed appeared on the ground, set inside the larger one to prevent anything from getting closer than the edge of the bed. Her eyes closed and she didn't move.

"If you want her to live, let me out of these traps. She can't survive without help," Crowley said quickly. Sam hesitated for half a second before listening. Crowley vanished and appeared again before Sam had moved more than three inches. "If you want her to live, do exactly as I say. I need an angel blade."

Sam grabbed the nearest blade and handed it over, hovering nearby as Crowley knelt at the bedside. Crowley made a careful cut into Angel's abdomen, just in the place Sam remembered her using when she drained the Grace from the unknown angel before they went to stop Castiel. Crowley opened a case and Sam saw that it was filled with light. Crowley transferred the light into the incision and sealed it quickly before placing the blade in Angel's hand.

"The souls will give her a chance if they don't reject. You need to lay down beside her, preferably as close as possible. Your soul's proximity will help to keep the souls viable for as long as possible," Crowley informed him. Sam hesitated for a moment, staring at the devil's trap. "Bloody Hell, fix the traps before you do, but hurry if you want her to live."

"Do you think this'll work?" Sam asked, fixing the traps and setting the holy oil circle on fire before climbing into the bed.

"It's the best we can do for now. Take off your shirt and get as close to her as possible. Bullocks, moose, you can get closer than that—you've slept with her before, whether you remember it or not. Better. Now don't move. You might feel nauseous when she starts absorbing the souls because they'll try to reach out to yours, but don't move away."

"How long do I have to stay here?" Sam asked with every appearance of being terribly uncomfortable.

"A few hours, at least. By then I should be able to tell if she'll live. Have you called Cas? He might be able to do something more for her," Crowley asked.

"No, Angel had my phone," Sam answered.

"That must be the one I saw outside," Crowley muttered. He'd dropped his own in his haste to fulfill his contractile obligation of coming to her aid with the Colt. Sam moved and Crowley held up his hand. "No, you can't go after it. You're trapped by the holy oil too and leaving her side now would further endanger her anyway. You could try praying to him."

"I did that as soon as we were in danger."

"He'll know to look for you, then, whenever he gets here. At least now you know Hell answers before Heaven," Crowley remarked. Seeing that Sam was going to remain restless, Crowley snapped his fingers and rendered him unconscious. All he could do was sit and watch. He looked for any signs of the souls taking or rejecting. After a few minutes, he heard an audible clap and Angel began muttering in what he assumed to be Enochian. When she didn't stop, Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. She would live. Curious, he got out his phone and began a recording. What she was saying in this moment of unconscious weakness could prove instrumental in understanding what really drove her actions and that was just the sort of information the King of Hell could use.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me, just my character Angel and bits of the plot.**

...

"You have three seconds to tell me what's going on before I kill whoever's behind me and move on to you," Angel hissed quietly. Crowley looked up and held up his hands in peace.

"You passed out. It's the moose behind you. You needed souls," he explained.

"The devil's traps. You're stuck," she realized aloud, remembering putting them in place.

"With the holy oil, we're all stuck until someone lets us out, but, yes, I can't move from this spot," he stated. She nodded and extracted herself carefully from Sam's unconscious embrace.

"You knocked him out, didn't you?" she snickered. "Did you get a shot off at Dena?"

"No, she was gone when I arrived. You were on the ground. Do you remember anything?"

"I remember being angry and then panicking when I realized I was blacking out. Other than that, not really, lover. You must've been slow getting here if she was gone."

"You caught me at a bad time, but I was still here in under a minute. You seem to have handled it on your own—with great apparent risk to your life."

"I was so angry I remember thinking I'd die by my hand before I would hers, so I probably used all I had in me, pet. Once the Grace is gone, so's the angel and I was ready to go if it was by my own power. Do you think there's any chance I killed her?"

"I don't know. How much Grace is usually reserved by your self-preservation instincts? If it's quite a bit, maybe you did."

"Don't get my hopes up, lover. Isn't there anyone here to let us out? My pacing's starting to drive myself crazy."

"Neither Sam's phone nor mine is here and the house is empty. Theoretically, someone should be here soon. Sam supposedly prayed to Cas for help."

"Cassie boy probably ignored him. Not that I blame him. Sweet roll can be a smartass and nobody like's that. Well, not nobody. There are always cult followings for the smart ones and the snarky ones. He wasn't bad when he was soulless."

"Having a moment?"

"Nah, I'm over it. You should know me better than that, lover. Son of three bitches, if someone doesn't let me out of here soon, I'm going to kill something."

"It's good to see that you've recovered so effectively."

"How many souls did you give me anyway? I'll need to pay you back."

"Five. Don't worry about payment. I'll think of something eventually."

"I'm not going to owe you, pet. I'll get your five souls back for you once we're out of here. If we ever _get_ out of here."

"I think that was the front door."

"Thank everything. Bobby, Cas, Dean! Someone come let me out! I'm trapped down here with Crowley and Sam!"

"What happened?" Cas asked, materializing in the room.

"Let me out, lover, and I'll tell you, but please let me out first," Angel answered quickly, looking desperate. Cas dropped the holy fire and Angel nearly shot to the other side of the room. "Good, now I'm not trapped. Dena attacked when sweet roll and I were at the supermarket. We got to the house and I attacked her with all I had. I don't know what happened to her, but Crowley and Sam got me down here and helped me recover. Have you heard anything, pet?"

"No. We were fighting Raphael," Cas answered.

"And you all lived? What happened?" Angel asked, sitting crisscross on the floor.

"This is interesting, of course, but would you mind freeing me before you continue? I've been sitting here for hours," Crowley asked. Angel shrugged and stood up.

"I'll let you out if that makes us even."

"It does," he agreed. She let him go and he added, "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, lover. What's fair's fair. Now, then, Cassie boy, what happened with Raphael?" Angel asked.

"I had arranged to meet with him to consider a peaceable solution to this fight. Dean and Bobby insisted on coming with me in case it was a trap. It was. We managed to escape uninjured, but we had to be careful that we weren't tracked, so it took us a few hours to return," Cas explained.

"Good job escaping, ducks. Raphael must've wanted to try taking us all out at once. What were you doing talking to him anyway?" Angel asked.

"The meeting was arranged last month to discuss ending the battle. I thought it would be worth it if it would work, but Dean insisted on coming with me and brought Bobby too. He sent Sam to the grocery store and suggested you go with him to try to keep him safe."

"Bloody typical, that. Risking sacrificing himself to keep little Sammy safe. Excuse me while I go threaten him for risking _my life_ to protect the sweet roll."

"She won't hurt him much. She'll just yell at him," Crowley assured Cas. Angel flicked him off above her head and kept walking. "I'll wake up the moose and leave, if you don't have any more information."

"No, that's all," Cas replied. Cas watched as Crowley snapped, making Sam's eyes open, before the demon disappeared.

"What happened?" Sam asked groggily.

"You were attacked by Dena and Angel protected you. You slept beside her to speed her recovery."

"Oh. Right. I remember. I think I'm going to be sick."

"That is to be expected from the strain on your soul."

...

"SAM, I'M OUT OF ALCOHOL AGAIN. FIX IT," Angel shouted from somewhere. Sam sighed. It had been three days since she'd almost lost everything trying to take out Dena and she was making him regret not running at the archangel himself.

"Bobby's at the store now," he called back. Angel groaned like a dying thing and stumbled into the room, a bottle still gripped tight in one hand. "You look like you're had enough."

"Fuck you. No judging, remember? That's probably how Dena found us in the first place, lover," she replied, attempting to tuck her disheveled hair behind her ears and instead managing to hit herself with the bottle. "Ow. Fuck you too."

"Was that really necessary?" Sam asked after she shattered the glass on the kitchen floor.

"Yes, it was."

"What's going on?" Dean asked, peaking through the kitchen door.

"Do you have any alcohol stashed somewhere to get her out of my hair? She's out," Sam asked.

"Don't be such a bitch, Sam," Angel remarked, sitting down across from him with her eyes closed.

"Hey, I think you're the one being a bitch here, Angel," Dean suggested. Angel flicked him off and put her head down on the table with another moan.

"They're out of liquor at the bar downtown. I'll have to go further tonight. Do you have any idea how much energy that takes?"

"Next to none? You're a completely re-charged angel. Teleporting is nothing to you," Sam remarked. Angel cracked one eye open to glare at him.

"Remembering something from being Daddy's vessel or just speculating? I'm not a normal angel," she spat. "Now go away and bring me something—I don't care if it's only _beer_ , just bring me something."

"Maybe we should try pawning her off on Crowley," Sam muttered, glancing at his phone.

"She'd be in a worse mood when we got her back," Dean pointed out.

"At this point, I don't really care. Can't we do a detox or something? She's becoming more of a bitch by the minute—especially to us."

"He's the one who risked my life to protect yours—without asking me or paying me or anything," Angel muttered.

"That's what this is about?" Sam exploded, standing up. "Bitch about it to Dean then. I didn't ask for you to risk yourself. God, it's no wonder you don't have any friends."

"And three, two, one," Angel whispered, sitting up. When she reached one, Sam collapsed on the ground. "That would be his mental wall. I had a feeling it would break today."

"Son of a bitch! Cas, we need you, man!" Dean shouted angrily, shoving Angel out of his way. Sam was seizing violently. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing. I knew it would break. I could've bitched quieter and not got you in the room first," she answered. Cas popped into the room.

"What, Dean?" he asked.

"It's Sam. His wall broke," Dean answered, panicking. Cas knelt by Sam's other side and placed one hand on his chest and the other on his forehead.

"Yes, he's very damaged. He's reliving the torture of the cage in his mind," Cas informed him.

"Well, do something about it!" Dean shouted. "I can't lose him."

"I will take the damage," Cas assured him. Angel stood watching, no longer so much as pretending to be anything but sober.

"You'll go crazy if you take the damage to yourself. That won't help anyone—not for long," she pointed out.

"If I do not, he will die," Cas answered, working on setting up for the transfer.

"Ooh, idea. If you're going to transfer it, how hard is it to send them to someone else?" Angel asked. Cas and Dean stared at her in confusion.

"It could be accomplished," Cas informed her. She smiled, snapped her fingers, and disappeared from the room. Cas returned to his work. There wasn't enough time to waste paying attention to her. As it was, he didn't know if this would work. This was old stuff, the transferring of a soul shard and memories. It hadn't been done for ages. Erasing memories was easier—removing a soul could be done by any crossroads demon—but taking a part of a soul and the memories associated with it without damaging the rest? That was hard. He wasn't sure if he could do it.

"What do you need me to do?" Dean asked, still kneeling by Sam across from Cas.

"Hold his head and neck still. This may be painful and he may try to fight," Cas informed him.

"Are either of you going to survive this?"

"I do not know," Cas admitted.

...

"Good, good, this way. Be careful she doesn't escape. It was hard work wounding her like this," Angel instructed, walking backwards as she continued expending power to help contain Dena.

"How did you talk me into this again?" Balthazar asked, struggling in a similar way behind the archangel.

"I'm giving you a hellhound," Crowley answered for her, keeping the specially-forged chains on Dena steady. Any slacking of angelic or demonic power would free the archangel and likely end with all of them dead.

"What's she paying you then?" Balthazar asked.

"My love and affection, pet," Angel said sarcastically. "Now stop talking and concentrate. I'm not dying today because you couldn't shut up."

"How much further?" Crowley asked. He knew he was weakening and he had a feeling that Balthazar and Angel weren't doing much better.

"Just up the road. You hush too. Bobby knows we're on the way," Angel instructed. They worked in silence, pulling the archangel steadily closer to the house. When the house came into view, Bobby opened the door and shouted something to the others inside. "Where are they at, Bobby? Please tell me they're closer to the kitchen."

"We moved them to the entrance. Cas and Sam seem to be in some sort of trance, so we dragged them in there," Bobby replied.

"Good job. Get out of the way and keep Dean back. Crowley, keep as close to her as you can when we enter the door. Balthazar, don't let your hold break. We're almost there," Angel instructed, backing through the doorway. Once they were inside, she glanced at Crowley and Balthazar in a silent assessment. "I need you to hold her on your own for three seconds so I can get the necessary information to Cas. Can you do that?"

"If I die, my hellhound's going straight after you," Balthazar muttered in agreement. Crowley nodded, already resigned to this. Angel counted to three before dropping her hold and turning to kneel beside Cas, her hands on the sides of his head. Within two seconds, she was back up and assisting in controlling the archangel again.

"Now it's up to Cas and his own strength. Bobby, get holy oil in case this doesn't work. You're going to need to torch her," she remarked, watching the archangel carefully. "You still okay, lovers?"

"Besides the fact that I haven't spent this much energy in years, I'm managing," Balthazar answered.

"And once again we see the perks of Hell over Heaven," Crowley muttered, nodding. Angel smiled. She wasn't sure how she'd managed to make them face off like they were, but it was almost as fun as driving Sam and Dean crazy. After a moment of silent waiting, Cas stood suddenly and lunged toward the archangel.

"Kill her," he instructed when he stepped back.

"Been waiting for that command, lover," Angel sighed happily, smiling. The two angels and the demon finished off the archangel swiftly before breathing a collective sigh of relief.

"What happened?" Bobby asked, glancing toward where Dean still held Sam on the floor.

"Dena was weakened after our last fight, so we used Sam's trouble to get her weak enough to off. Have fun trying to clean up the stains though. I'm not doing that—or hiding the body," Angel answered. "Now, _please_ tell me you bought something for me to drink."

"In the kitchen," Bobby indicated, a bit surprised she hadn't gloated or argued longer. He figured she'd make up for it later on though. "How's he doing?"

"He'll sleep for a few hours. It was successful," Cas answered before collapsing to the ground.

"Was that Cassie boy or Balthazar?" Angel called from the kitchen.

"Cas," Bobby called back.

"I'll be in there to help in a minute. Crowley, pay Balthazar for me, won't you? He won't leave until you do," she remarked. Crowley and Balthazar popped out of the room. Bobby considered moving Cas before Angel returned, but she was back quick enough to prevent him from trying. "All right, let's get you up, brother mine. Dean, where are you planning to take Sam so I know where to put Cas?"

"Put Cas in my chair and Sam on the couch," Bobby answered before Dean could. Dean nodded and Angel lifted her brother. She got him to the chair and returned for Sam.

"This'll be gentler if you help me. Are you ready to move him?" Angel asked, taking Sam's feet. Dean shifted his weight and nodded. They got Sam to the couch and Dean sat down on the coffee table to watch him. Angel went to the doorway to meet Bobby.

"You think they'll be all right?" he asked.

"Is anyone? The damage done to Sam is removed—there's a clean cut now, so it should heal and human souls heal incredibly fast. Cas seems just drained. I'll check him for damage later on. I've got to go meet Crowley and Balthazar to make sure they get paid for their help."

"I'll bring back more alcohol when they look better. Anything particular you want?"

"Nah, you know me. Whatever'll do—and don't try to thank me. This relationship of convenience was worth saving for the moment."

...

"How are we going to face off Raphael? Even without Dena, we'll have a helluva time trying to stop him," Angel asked, tossing the hex bag she and Cas were using to strengthen their wards to him.

"We have ten vials of holy oil and the Colt," he pointed out, tossing the ward back after saying the incantation under his breath.

"Will that work on him, though? The Colt didn't stop Daddy and he was one of the Four—Hell, the most-damned of 'em. How do we know it would work on Raphael?"

"We don't, but we need to try something."

"…since the holy oil by itself would be difficult to fight with. If we didn't manage to trap him, he'd dodge our attacks or turn them back on us. I, for one, don't plan on going by fire. Dean have any ideas?"

"No, he's been busy monitoring Sam. Finishing Raphael is less important to him."

"So it's up to you to think something up. Remind me again how I managed to get involved in a fight with an archangel?"

"You agreed to work with Sam and I fought with Raphael. Since he wants revenge, he's attacking all of you."

"I still can't believe you—pissing off our most powerful free and living brother in some asinine attempt to control Heaven. And I can't believe _me_ for getting myself mixed up in it. I swore I was getting away from all angels when I got out of Hell and yet here I am."

"Where would you go? We have siblings everywhere."

"I don't know, the ends of the universe? I was considering trying to hop into a different dimension, but I don't really have the power for it. Why are you still sticking around after all you've gone through with them? These humans and angels have treated you pretty rough, lover. Why not curse God and die, so to speak?"

"This is…home. I am meant to be here and I cannot imagine being elsewhere."

"Sounds like Stockholm Syndrome to me, pet. This ward would be stronger with blood, you know."

"We aren't bleeding the humans."

"Not even one of them? Just a little bit?"

"No."

"Fine. You're such a drag."

...

"Hello, excuse me, I'll just take this seat, thanks," Balthazar said as he popped into Bobby's living room and managed to get himself to the couch. Dean and Cas got out of his way just before he collapsed.

"You don't look good," Dean remarked.

"Yes, I got a bad haircut, thanks for reminding me," Balthazar replied acidly.

"He's badly injured. What happened?" Cas asked.

"Raphael's _pissed_ and he somehow found out I was working with Angel. If I wasn't already waiting, I wouldn't have escaped," Balthazar indicated. "Where's Angel? She's responsible for this."

"She's out somewhere. Should I call her?" Dean asked.

"Yes, clearly. She's obligated to fix this," Balthazar griped. Dean got out his phone and dialed Angel's number, walking absently out of the room.

"Did Raphael tell you anything?" Cas asked.

"Yes. He told me we'll all die for Dena's sake. I was lucky enough to be chosen as least involved, giving me a quick death, but God pity you and Angel. It's not going to be quick," Balthazar informed him, closing his eyes.

"You need to rest. We will find Angel and ensure that Raphael does not get here," Cas assured him.

"I won't know if he does," Balthazar mumbled before falling silent. Cas stared at him for a moment before going in search of Dean. Balthazar would recover, but they needed to do more if a ticked off Archangel was planning an attack. The vengeful anger of an Archangel was nothing compared to one's blinding rage and this battle would be completely different. They needed to be ready and Cas wasn't sure if they could be. He knew his brother. It was going to be bad.

...

"I hope you're happy, pet. I look like a fool," Angel grumbled, stepping out of the bathroom in the dress and jewelry Crowley had brought her.

"You owed me," he remarked, glancing over her with an appraising eye. "It'll do. Do you have the knife?"

"As if I would walk out in this without a blade. Yes, it's right by the split of the skirt," she assured him. "I still don't understand why I have to dress up to threaten a guy."

"The goal is to not need to threaten him. I'll try reasoning with him first and you'll tempt him to listen," Crowley answered.

"Bastard," Angel muttered.

"Yeah, but you're the one that agreed to this."

"I agreed to be your strong-arm, not a ho for you to pimp out to difficult customers."

"The most you'll have to do is oral."

"Fuck you. How long is this supposed to take?"

"The event lasts from six to eight, but we should be done before seven. If he recognizes you, we should be able to convince him quickly. If he doesn't, convince him you're interested and then put a knife to his throat," Crowley instructed, holding out his arm. Angel went to his side, muttering something he assumed was derogatory, and they popped to the club. "Please keep your alcohol consumption believable."

"Fuck you, lover," Angel whispered in a singsong voice in reply. Crowley gave her a look before assuming his high-class business event face. Angel would serve as arm candy and, if things went south, a weapon to get them back under control. Crowley knew she would be just as effective as both—provided she didn't say anything unusual or distasteful, which was more likely than he'd prefer. He hoped his request that she keep her red-stained lips smiling and closed would be obeyed, but he doubted it. She was her own bitch and she liked everyone to know it.

"Mr. Crowley, good to see you again. I was hoping you would make it so we could conclude our business," a young man greeted as they walked through the room.

"Your invitation reached me and I knew I couldn't pass up the opportunity. Allow me to introduce Miss Cage, an associate of mine," Crowley introduced.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Cage. I'm Mr. Randall, but you can call me Randy," the young man indicated.

"The pleasure's all mine," Angel answered sweetly, playing the role Crowley had assigned her with great success. He knew he'd get hell for it later, but it would do for now. 'Randy' took them to a back room he had set aside for this sort of business—although he'd certainly never dealt with a demon of Crowley's magnitude before. They settled down into the posh, comfortable sitting room and the man ordered drinks for his guests. Small talk abounded until the drinks were served and the room was emptied of all but the three. "I hope you don't mind my sitting in on this conversation. Crowley and I do a great deal of business together and his deal with you will affect that."

"Of course. I hope it won't be disappointing, but I've decided to decline your deal. I've had a better offer," Randy said.

"Who offered it? You have to be careful of who you're working with," Crowley remarked.

"I know it's important to be careful. That's why I'm working with an angel instead of a demon," Randy indicated.

"That's a bit harsh," Crowley returned, ensuring he hid his surprise. "What angel?"

"Me," a man answered, materializing in the empty seat.

"Oh, shit," Angel muttered, recognizing Raphael as a circle of holy fire surrounded the chair she was in.

"You look uncomfortable. Why don't you throw me that blade you have?" he suggested. Angel tossed the blade over the flames resignedly. It wasn't the right time to cling to straws. It was the time to watch, prepare, and do some intense calculations. Crowley was still free. If nothing else, he could run for help if she distracted Raphael enough—although she wasn't sure how much help that would be. If she was lucky, he could muster a few hunters, some hellhounds, and Castiel— _maybe_ Balthazar if he thought it'd be worth the risk. "It was a clever trap, wasn't it, sister?"

"It worked, anyway. How did you know I was even going to be here?" Angel asked, crossing her arms in her chair as though she didn't care. "Oh, but I told Balthazar I'd be gone with Crowley today. He warned me about his double-crossing history. It's less clever than I thought, unless you tricked it out of him instead of threatening him. Trying to take me out to increase your chances of success?"

"Hardly. You're a pretty prize to draw out the others. Castiel's been hiding and I know you both had a hand in Dena's demise," Raphael remarked. "We're being rude, aren't we? My apologies, Mr. Randall." Randy turned white and slumped over in his chair, the three non-humans recognizing him as dead. "Pity his deal didn't bargain for his life. His death frees me anyway."

"I'm glad I was never fool enough to deal with you. Upset about Dena, though, are you, lover? It wasn't easy to take her out, but offing her's given them confidence. They're planning to take you out as we speak, unless I'm much mistaken," Angel commented airily. She hoped Raphael missed the slight motion of her left foot, a signal she'd set up with Crowley ages ago in their pretend love in Hell. Raphael didn't seem to suspect anything and Crowley shifted in his seat, telling her he knew to leave the second Raphael was distracted.

"I noticed you said 'they.' You don't count yourself as one of them?" Raphael asked.

"They pay me to work with them, pet. What, did you think I worked with them out of the goodness of my heart?" Angel laughed. Raphael seemed to consider it and Crowley, hoping the momentary lapse was enough, popped out of the room.

"You sent your boyfriend away."

"You're the one that didn't trap him—and surely you know I'm only working with him for the pay as well. I don't do anything for free, but everything can be purchased at the right price."

"Even your betrayal of Castiel and the others?"

"Absolutely. Booze, credit cards, and the chance to talk to God when they find him are all they're paying. Pay more and I'll be yours—figuratively speaking. _Literally_ costs more than you could afford."

"I could get Joshua to help find God or set up a conversation, at least. I'll give you as much money as your heart desires if you trap them for me."

"Trap them? That's more. Killing them's easy and quick. Tricking them will take more thought and I do so hate to think, lover. Make it as much money _and_ liquor with the location of God and I'll do it. A conversation with God isn't enough. I need his location or it's no deal."

"Have we forgotten who's trapped by holy fire, sister? You're in no position to refuse or demand anything."

"We both know you would've killed me already if you didn't want my help. With how much you're reminding me of my position, I'd say you might even be scared of me—not that I would blame you, lover."

"Scared? No. Interested? Yes. I'm the last Archangel, the most powerful angel of Heaven, and I have nothing more to fear than the thorns in my side. If you were converted into a weapon, I'd solve two problems at once. Efficiency has always appealed to me."

"…Until you get the chance to physically crush your enemies. Not that it matters. Get me a meeting with God and arrange for the rest and I'll work with you. If not, you'll have to crush this thorn instead of turn it to your advantage. Your choice."

"I'll let you free—for now. Give me a few weeks to see what I can arrange. In the meantime, keep them from making attempts on my life—you can discuss them, but don't let them act on their plans."

"How will I know when you want to talk again? I'm a busy girl, lover."

"You'll know."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me, just my character Angel and bits of the plot.**

...

"He just let you go?" Sam asked with surprise as Angel tried to find a bottle of alcohol.

"No, he didn't 'just let me go.' He did a good deal of damage first. You should see my poor wings," Angel complained, grabbing a bottle of beer with a sigh.

"Do you even _have_ wings?" Sam asked drily.

"I'm an angel, aren't I?" Angel bit off, turning a look on him. "I'd look a helluva lot worse if Daddy'd gone through the effort of giving me blood and a beating heart. Then you'd see the bruises and cuts. As it is, the ash just reforms into the right shape, but it's structurally weaker. You could break my legs in a fight right now. Raphael did some damage."

"I still don't believe you. He wouldn't have let you escape."

"Fuck you. Where did Crowley go?"

"He left. Cas is upstairs with Dean."

"That'll do. Thanks," Angel grumbled, heading toward the stairs. She made it halfway there before she paused to regroup. She hadn't lied, exactly. Raphael _had_ done some damage. Her escape had to be believable. The wings that hurt so much on a normal day were unbearable now. If she hadn't been tortured in hell for millennia, she knew she wouldn't have the strength to get up the stairs now. But she had and she did, so she resumed walking. "Cas, where are you at?"

"Here," Cas answered, stepping out of the door to Dean's room. "You are badly injured."

"Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious. You wanna help me get somewhere to sit down so we can talk about Raphael? I don't have much strength left," she indicated, reaching out to him. He took her arm and led her into Dean's room, where Dean was flipping through journals on the bed. "I'm borrowing part of your bed. Sorry."

"When did you get out? Crowley didn't give us many details, but he was only here a half hour ago," Dean asked her.

"I didn't think he would. He left, Raphael went mad and beat the shit out of me, I taunted him until he got distracted, and then I fled here. Bobby heard me banging on the door and let me inside. Apparently, I was disoriented enough not to remember how to use a doorknob. I argued with Sam for a second in the kitchen and then came up here. I'm still waiting for the exciting 'oh, you lived, we're so happy,' but I have this feeling I'm not getting it from anyone," she answered, throwing herself onto her stomach beside him. She snatched his phone from his pocket and he rolled his eyes. "What? I should probably tell Crowley I'm cool. He's a useful enough tool and I don't want to lose him on a useless attempt to save me when I already saved myself."

"You look okay for Raphael beating the shit out of you," Dean commented as she slipped the phone back to him.

"Her body is not made like yours or Jimmy Novak's. She will not show damage unless a piece of her is physically removed," Cas explained, sitting at the end of the bed. "Do you want me to try healing you? I don't know if it will work."

"Go for it, lover. It can't hurt—and, even if it does, I can handle it," Angel remarked, putting her face down into the mattress. She groaned as Cas began trying to heal her. The mangled, disfigured wings she spent so much energy hiding tried to manifest, stretching the skin of her back in odd, uncomfortable ways.

"That looks like it hurts. You sure you want him to keep trying?" Dean asked, a bit of concern leaking into his voice.

"Whatever," Angel groaned, not moving. Cas continued for another moment before Dean stopped him.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked Angel after a moment of perfect silence and stillness.

"Yeah," she answered, still not moving.

"Your wings always look like that?" he asked. Angel pointed at Cas without looking up, indicating he should answer. Dean looked at him.

"Her wings have been deformed since returning from Hell, but Raphael apparently involved them in his torture. She could never recover them. It is dubious if she would have been able to before, but it is obviously impossible now," Cas explained, an expression of pity crossing his face. There was something truly sad about an angel without wings, no matter the circumstances.

"Do me a favor and pluck Raphael's out, eh, lovers?" Angel moaned, moving her arms under her to try to sit up.

"Hey, you stay here and rest. We'll figure out what to do about Raphael. Maybe we'll see if Balthazar's better or something," Dean suggested. Angel made a strangled sound and fell back onto the bed.

"Not Balthazar. Don't call him," she whispered before her eyes closed and she stopped moving.

"She okay?" Dean asked Cas.

"She will recover," Cas assured him before following Dean downstairs.

"Hey, Sammy! We've got planning to do," Dean called once he entered the living room, where Bobby was looking through a few books. "Angel's in bad shape. We need to do something about Raphael before he catches someone else."

"She gonna be all right?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, she's just got to rest and then give us Hell for awhile. She'll be fine. More importantly, we need to plan to prevent this from happening again—to her or any of the rest of us. We got to take him down," Dean said. Sam took his normal seat and shook his head. He had a feeling that, even if Angel was injured, she wasn't sharing everything. Cas gave him a curious look, picking up on the distrust.

"How are we going to manage that? He'd be a fool to stall his attack now that Angel's out of the picture for now. The four of us would have a hard time beating him in a fight," Bobby pointed out.

"We've got the Colt, ten vases of holy oil, and the advantage of being cool-headed. Raphael's pissed and he'll make more mistakes that way," Dean remarked.

"I don't know, Dean. I think he's smarter than that," Sam protested, not feeling the excitement that the others seemed to with their recent changes of position. "What do you think, Cas?"

"Raphael will either attack soon and violently or he will wait and attack more slyly. It depends upon his analysis of our respective resources," Cas answered.

"So what can we do? We've got weapons gathered. Is that all?" Bobby asked.

"We could attempt to attack him, but he moves constantly and it would be difficult," Cas offered.

"Okay, Cas, you see what you can find out about where Raphael might frequent. We'll keep looking for weapons and make a plan for if he _does_ attack. Sam, find what you can about his traditional fighting strategy—and Michael's too. We might be able to find a pattern to use against him," Dean instructed, glancing out the window to make sure everything still looked normal. The last thing they needed was to be caught unawares.

...

"You look like hell," Balthazar commented as he appeared in the chair beside Dean's bed, where Angel still laid. She rolled on her side toward him, her fingers twitching around her blade.

"Did you betray me, brother?" she asked, her eyes hard and mistrustful. Balthazar shrugged.

"He was going to get the information of your location out of me anyone. You can thank me for planting the idea of your defection into his head," he answered. "I thought that would fulfill any obligation I had to you."

"I can accept that. What's your position now?" Angel asked, sitting up carefully. Balthazar noticed her wince and wondered if Raphael had chosen to do more damage to her wings because he knew that was where it would hurt her worst.

"He wants me to let him know if you seem to be going off the path he set, but I'm otherwise free. What are your plans?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet. For now, recovery and enough liquor to make my head spin, if the world has it. You don't have anything on you, do you?"

"Get away from them and come with me for a few days. You can drink and party to your heart's content while you recover and then we can discuss your plans more fully."

"I told them not to contact you, you know. I didn't say what you did or that they couldn't trust you, but I told them not to talk to you."

"Even better. They'll leave you alone if you're with me. Besides, I need some help training my hellhound. It likes to bite the hand that feeds it."

"If you consider it a fair deal, I'll go, but I'm not going to owe you anything."

"Fair enough for me. You may want to warn them you're leaving, at least, so they don't try anything stupid."

"They're incapable of anything but stupid, but I'll go let them know anyway."

...

"Crowley, I swear this hellhound's broken. It won't listen to Balthazar," Angel sighed over the phone, tossing a scrap of flesh to the hellhound. "Yes, it'll listen to _me_ , but that's hardly the point. It was payment for him, not me."

"Can't he just replace it with another?" Balthazar asked, nursing a glass of vodka where he lounged on the bed. Angel held up her hand to indicate she was busy.

"Well, what are we supposed to do about that? No, I'm not going to do that. That's stupid. Come over here and fix it. _You_ can do the blood-spell to bind it to him," Angel indicated. After another moment, she made a sound of agreement and snapped the phone shut before turning toward Balthazar. "He'll come over in a bit to bind it to you. Apparently, he _forgot_."

"I'm sure. So why does it listen to you anyway?" Balthazar asked. Angel shrugged.

"Probably has something to do with my time with Daddy," she answered carelessly as she went to grab the bottle of vodka on the bedside table. Balthazar turned on his side toward her, moving back to give her room to join him. "You know, I really never thought you'd be the type, lover. I guess we never really met before though, did we?"

"Thank God. This would be a bit more than awkward if we had."

"What, since we're lovers without the typical angel-bonding and mating drives? Yeah. Speaking of awkward, it'll be more so if Crowley gets here and neither of us are dressed."

"Maybe he could join us."

"If you die from laughing too hard at your own joke, I'm not helping. We need to discuss Raphael. Go put something on—and, if you suggest wearing _me_ , I'll give you some lovely new scars you can't possibly enjoy."

"I'm going. Is that stick up your ass just wedged there permanently? I thought you might level out after a few days with me, but apparently I was wrong."

"Fuck you, lover. You knew what you were getting into—or near enough anyway. Go take a cold shower and put on some clothes. I'll be by the bar with this cuddly little monster."

"Did you just call my vicious hellhound _cuddly_?"

"Shower, you, go," Angel instructed in a no-nonsense voice, slipping on her clothes before heading to the bar in the other room. Her days with Balthazar had clued her in as to why he and Crowley had been fighting and she was reveling in it. If she could continue pitting them off each other, she could accomplish a great deal more than she could working with either individually. The shirt she was wearing—a gift from Crowley—was part of that plan. Let Crowley think she was showing her allegiance; let Balthazar dwell on their past few days. If she could keep them at odds, she could use them against _all_ her enemies. She only hoped they were both too foolish to find her out.

"The hellhound seems to be behaving normally to me," Crowley commented as he popped into the room. Angel stood up to get him a glass of scotch, leaving the hellhound sitting by her seat.

"It is, for the most part. It just won't listen to Balthazar like it's supposed to. Thank God it hasn't _really_ attacked him or I'd have a mess to clean up," Angel remarked, sliding the glass she filled at him before shouting at Balthazar to let him know Crowley'd arrived. "He's in the shower. He'll be out in a minute and you can do the blood-spell, if you think it necessary."

"I'll need to observe them first, but it'll probably be necessary. A hellhound isn't likely to obey an angel without it," Crowley reasoned before taking a drink of the scotch. "Not bad. Yours or Balthazar's?"

"Balthazar's. He keeps a pretty good bar, even with the hit I've put on it in the past few days," Angel answered.

"Have you been staying here?" Crowley asked in some surprise.

"Yeah, I needed to get away and he offered his flat in exchange for me trying to control this monstrosity," Angel answered, petting the hellhound affectionately. "It's really a beauty. How come you never gave me one?"

"You never asked for one. You avoid responsibility at all costs, remember?" Crowley pointed out. Angel smiled and resumed her seat next to his, absently setting her hand on his to play with his ring.

"Okay, how do we make this pup listen?" Balthazar asked loudly as he entered the room, breaking up the moment exactly as Angel had hoped.

"Crowley thinks a blood-spell will work. You're too holy of an angel," she snickered. Balthazar rolled his eyes and knelt in front of the hellhound, making it produce a growl. "You'll have to give it a name for the blood-spell to take. What are you going to call it?"

"I haven't thought about it," Balthazar answered, snatching his hand back before the beast bit him.

"I think you should name him Cuddles. Then anyone you sic him on will have a moment of confusion before he kills them," Angel suggested, her hand still on the hellhound.

"Whatever you're going to name it, I suggest we get on with this. I don't want to waste all day here," Crowley indicated.

"We wouldn't want you to waste all day here either," Balthazar replied with a smile before rolling up his sleeve. Angel sat beside the hellhound and rolled up her own sleeve.

"If it's bonded to me, you'll need my blood too. I get _at_ _least_ three bottles of liquor for this," she remarked, shooting a look at Balthazar before turning toward Crowley. "Let's get this over with, lover."

Crowley nodded and then began his incantation, circling the two and the hellhound slowly. He stopped in front of the hellhound and cut his own hand, offering the blood to the hellhound, before spilling some of it in the chalice he had brought with him. He repeated the process with ash from Angel's hand, but did not give Balthazar's blood to the hellhound. Instead, he gathered it into the chalice and mixed the three together. Together, he and Angel led the hellhound to drink it. Once it had, the hellhound allowed Balthazar to pet it. Angel smoothed the ash of her hand into the right shape and stood up.

"That wasn't so bad. Balthazar, to make sure the spell is completed, you'll need to stay with the hellhound for the remainder of the hour. Crowley, if you wouldn't mind staying, I think it would be prudent to include you in our conversation about Raphael. I know you've been wanting to know how I escaped anyway," she remarked.

"I can spare a few hours for something this important," he informed her, getting out his phone to send a few quick messages.

"Good. As you know, Raphael had me captured in holy oil. I sent you away and he was angry—they don't exaggerate when they whisper about the wrath of an Archangel, but what's that to me? Anyway, he tried his hand at torturing me and I, being the individual I am, kept pissing him off until he slipped up enough for me to escape. That's the story, anyway, but of course it isn't the truest one," she informed him, smiling.

"Did you agree to work with him instead?" Crowley asked.

"Yes, to an extent. Balthazar did too. There isn't much choice, really. I'm not going to die because of those three and Raphael's promised me better pay. It would be stupid not to take the deal. Since I was offered such a nice break, I thought I should offer something of it to you as well. You've proven a useful ally in the past and I would prefer not to alienate you or cause your demise," Angel remarked.

"That's nice of you," Crowley commented drily. Angel smiled at him in the intimate way she only did when they were alone.

"Think nothing of it, lover. Now, the goal is to keep Raphael happy. That means keeping Sam, Dean, and Cas from attempting anything. Could you stir up some trouble to distract them? Perhaps a few extra possessions, some unusual ghost activity? It'll be easier to keep them from trying anything if they're kept busy and I think you could be instrumental in ensuring that's what happens," she requested.

"I could do that. What about payment?" Crowley asked with the distinct sense that too many of their conversations lately had ended this way.

"I don't know. Another weekend in Hell? That doesn't really seem like enough for your trouble, does it?" Angel sighed, throwing herself onto the nearby lounge and throwing her feet up onto the table. "You've let me by on a number of our deals so far. I'm starting to feel like I owe you, so pick something good this time, lover."

"I'll need to think about it," Crowley replied.

"Dammit, you know I hate that, pet. Fine. Let me know. How soon can you stir up trouble? The faster the better, at this point," she asked. Crowley shrugged.

"Ten minutes and a few phone calls and I can do it, but they'll be suspicious if you show up just before a minor apocalypse. I can send a few out and have it escalate for the next few days," he offered, taking the seat she patted beside her.

"Sure, lover, that'll do. The next few weeks are going to be fun, fun, fun. After I've gauged everyone's position and abilities, though, perhaps my plans will change. Will you still be on my side if they do?" she asked.

"It would be suicidal not to," he pointed out with a half a smile. Angel smiled.

"Yeah, maybe. Who knows? Maybe I'll start going soft in my old age," she remarked, taking his hand to play with his ring. Crowley let her, watching her absently as she lost herself in her thoughts, forgetting about Balthazar bonding with the hellhound on the other side of the room. The rare quiet moments like this made him think of those first days again. Even if it had been nothing more than a series of malicious lies, it had contained some of the least-miserable moments of his afterlife. She had been a lifeline of hope, promising him that he wouldn't always be struggling to the top. And, even if she'd lied, she'd been right. He was in firm control of Hell now and he'd crushed the enemies that threatened him. Hell was his—and, through some odd twist of fate, she was by his side. Not that he trusted her. Not now. That, too, would be suicide.

...

"Are you back again?" Sam asked when Angel popped into the kitchen. She made a rude gesture and continued in search of booze. "Nice."

"Can it, pet, mommy's busy," she singsonged, not turning around. "Ah, I see Bobby went to the store. I'll have to thank him."

" _Mommy_?" Sam asked incredulously, making a sour face. Angel turned around with a whisky bottle in her hand, smiling.

"Who made sure through great pain that you have life? Oh, yeah, me. Mommy," she reasoned before taking a deep gulp of alcohol. "Where's your brother? I like him better anymore."

"Parents aren't supposed to have favorites," Sam pointed out drily, pointing upstairs.

"Sons aren't supposed to be whiny little bitches either, but just look at you," she replied before smiling and heading toward the stairs. It entertained her to listen to Sam's mumbling behind her. She knocked on Dean's door and was slightly surprised to find him searching through books alone. When he was sequestered for research like that, he usually trapped Cas with him, but he apparently hadn't today. "Where's Cas?"

"He went out to the store with Bobby. I think he likes doing human things like shopping every now and then," Dean answered, motioning for her to enter the room. She picked up one of the books he was looking at absently.

"You really think you'll find answers in _Strong's Concordance_? If they aren't in your bible, they likely aren't in the translation either," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but we're running out of options. What do you want, anyway?"

"Your brother's bitching about me, like usual, so I needed someone else to hang with. Balthazar and Crowley are all out of ideas as far as Raphael goes and I couldn't find anything else. Did you?"

"Nah, we're still trying to find anything that might help. We've got nothing so far. Can we even beat him? I mean, if the Colt wouldn't work on Lucifer, isn't it possible it wouldn't work on Raphael too? If it doesn't, we don't have anything but holy oil and prayers."

"Which sucks, admittedly. There are weird rumors starting about trouble unrelated to any of the usual stuff. Unusual omens and odd battles. There's a name linked with them, too, for what it's worth—a goddess: Baduhenna. Ever heard of her?"

"No, is there another name?"

"Not that I've heard of. She's a Germanic goddess that nobody really knows much about, but the etymology of her name suggests battle and she had groves dedicated to her that were identical to those of the triple goddesses common in Germanic areas, which means life, death, and battle may all have been associated with her. Rumors have even linked her to the fates and all of that together really doesn't sound happy. I don't think it will be a good thing if we run into her."

"Do you think we will?"

"I'm not sure. She's dangerous, though, and it's best if we proceed carefully. If she's as powerful as the rumors go and she teams up with Raphael, we're even more screwed than we were when he had Dena. We've got to be careful not to get her involved."

"Can't you ever come back with good news?"

"Balthazar's hellhound's behaving. He won't tell me what he named it, but it's answered to Cuddles. Is that good news?"

"It's funny, at least. Balthazar and Crowley both still helping out?"

"For now. I'm running out of ideas of how to pay them, but I'm working on it. Crowley's less likely to abandon us than Balthazar, but I'm working on that too. I wasn't gone last week for nothing."

"Um, don't tell me. I'd rather think you were just out healing. You all the way better now, anyway? You haven't said much since you've been back."

"I'm good enough, lover. Your concern is touching. Getting a bit too interested in me, though?"

"Nah, just making sure we're getting what we pay for. You're expensive."

"Gods, don't I know it. I'm worth it, though. Just think how bad it would've turned out if I hadn't stopped Cassie boy."

"You said yourself that wasn't your power though."

"I was endued with that power because I was going to sacrifice myself in an attempt to stop him anyway. He wasn't getting out of that alive, even if I didn't either. I've done more sacrificing for you silly little humans than you've any right to claim. We need to work, though. I'll focus on Raphael. See what you can find about Baduhenna."

"I'll get Sam on it. He's good at finding information about weird things like that."

"He's good at _weird_ anyway."

"Part of being a hunter."

"Right. You're all super-freaks."

"Says the freakiest angel to ever go to Hell."

"You're just jealous, lover. That's okay, though. You'll get angry and try something one of these days—and hate us both the more for it. Now go put your brother to his task. We've all got work to do."

...

"That's good information, Sammy. Angel couldn't find anything beyond the triple goddesses information. Which report to you think is most accurate?" Dean asked, listening to his brother intently. Sam shrugged, uncertain.

"I'm not sure yet. Like I said, there isn't much _known_ about her. It's mostly speculation from modern times or the Romans—and we know they weren't always as accurate as they thought they were," he answered. "Since she's so associated with the triple goddesses, I'm going to focus on that for the rest of the planning, focusing on the Matres and Matrones. Does Cas know anything about them? There isn't a _ton_ of information about _them_."

"I'll ask him. He's supposed to be back later from tracking Raphael," Dean said, scratching the stubble growing under his jaw.

"How's that going?" Sam asked, closing his laptop. Dean shrugged.

"Not great, but that's what we all expected. Raphael was never going to be easy to find," he remarked.

"Yeah, we knew that. Anyway, I'd better get back to work. Angel's supposed to bring back a report of signs to look for later, but I'm going to get started gathering what information I can now," Sam stated, opening his laptop again. Dean thought it was a little odd that he'd shut it just to open it again, but the mention of Angel made it make sense. His little brother did everything in his power to keep some sort of barrier up against her and, truth be told, Dean didn't blame him. She'd been alright at first, but she was causing division and chaos and, more than that, Dean was beginning to have the feeling that it really _was_ her fault that Sam's mental wall had broken.

Dean headed up toward his room, trying for the thousandth time to decide whether he should ask Angel about it. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn't lie about it—no matter the consequences. The more he thought about Sam, the more he became convinced about her involvement and the more pissed he got. Problem was, she'd made too many jabs about him getting angry and 'doing something about it' and he'd hate to play into her hands like that. He opened the bottle of whiskey he'd stashed in his room earlier. He took a swig of it and remembered that it was her fault he had to hide it in the first place.

He was going to have to do something about her, at least temporarily. He couldn't keep going like he had been. He needed to know if she _could_ be trusted. He was already certain she _shouldn't_ be—like he was certain he shouldn't keep drinking the whiskey as fast as he was—but _dammit_ there wasn't a choice if they were going to make it through this fight and he was going to make it through the night. He hoped to God that the sinking feeling in his gut was wrong and she wasn't as bad as he feared. If she was, he didn't know how they were going to survive this.

...

"Good job, sweet roll," Angel said approvingly as she grabbed Sam's ass. He jumped out of her reach and she snickered, winking at Dean across the table. "The signs I've dug up suggest she's somewhere East of here—they aren't as specific as demon signs, unfortunately. I printed off a list at some dude's apartment for you to look over. I'm headed in search of booze."

"At least the list is thorough," Sam muttered after glancing over it, sending a glare in the direction of Bobby's liquor cabinet. "I should be able to use this to triangulate the locations she's most likely to be in. We need to approach her before Raphael does."

"Amen to that," Dean agreed, taking the list as Sam offered it. He looked over it and thought that, if his brother could find the goddess's location from it, he was a miracle worker. The reports ranged over half the country, with no apparent pattern or reason behind them. One of the signs listed was three sets of twins born in one night in Chicago. Another was a five-car pileup in Atlanta. How the hell were they supposed to track things like that? They seemed perfectly ordinary, but Angel had them listed, so Dean guessed they'd just have to go along with it.

"I don't understand half of these. Think she's trying to trick us?" Sam asked, glancing toward the other room. Dean thought about it for a minute before shaking his head.

"No, she wouldn't be as obvious like this if she was trying to trick us. She'd be subtle about it," he decided.

"I'm glad you didn't rule out the possibility of her trying to trick us sometime, though," Sam said sarcastically. Dean shrugged. "Great. I didn't trust her and now you don't. Should we get rid of her?"

"Much as I don't trust her, I know she'd cause more harm away from us than she would with us. At least keeping her here gives us a chance to watch her," Dean reasoned.

"Good to see you boys are finally starting to learn something," Angel commented as she breezed past, more confidence in her walk than ever. "You boys should come out drinking with me tonight to celebrate the first good news we've had in ages."

"You want us to go drinking with you right after we said we didn't trust you?" Sam asked with his eyes narrowed. She paused at the door and turned around, leaning in the doorway.

"Of course. Never drink with people you trust—better to drink with someone you mistrust, especially if that someone's me. You'll either be responsible the whole night or have the time of your life. C'mon, boys. We've all been working too hard lately," she invited. Sam and Dean looked at each other. Sam could see that Dean was considering it and he sighed, resolving to agree so that he could watch his brother.

"Fine. Where are we going?" Sam asked, wondering if he needed to change out of his holey flannel into a more presentable one. She smiled.

"I'll take you somewhere decent. Go put on a new shirt—or go shirtless, either works for me. I'll be in the car," she indicated. Sam looked at Dean again, wondering exactly what he'd just agreed to.

...

"Did you slip him something?" Dean asked as he watched Sam dancing haphazardly nearby. Angel shrugged.

"Nothing I wouldn't take myself, lover," she assured him.

"That's not comforting," Dean muttered, lifting his beer bottle to his lips. Angel rolled her eyes.

"It won't hurt him. It's just enough to let him let loose. We both know he was going to try to drink reasonably and that's unacceptable," she remarked, signaling the bartender. She ordered a shot for each of them and instructed the bartender to make sure their glasses didn't stay empty at any point of the night. The bill she slipped to him made him overlook any qualms he would have had about it. Dean gave her a look, but took the shot provided. He watched her quietly slip a needle into her arm and wondered if maybe he shouldn't drink. Someone needed to be responsible. Her wink and smile to someone across the room made him roll his eyes and take the new shot on the table. He didn't want to be sober. Screw responsibility.

It didn't take long for Angel to disappear. Dean focused his attention on Sam, preparing himself to interfere if it came to it. His brother tended to be a comically emotional drunk, but he wasn't taking chances with whatever else was in his brother's system. He took another shot absently, not paying attention. He could handle his liquor and he wasn't worried, despite the fact that he knew he probably should be. He considered the turn of events of his life, trying to decide where the tentative reasonability of his life—as a hunter, anyway—had gone wrong.

They weren't happy thoughts.

"You look miserable over here, Dean. Why don't I throw some fresh meat your way, eh, lover?" Angel suggested, throwing herself back onto the barstool beside him a few minutes later. Her eyes had that bright, malicious look she usually reserved for Crowley, Castiel, or some other unfortunate she planned to crush. Dean shook his head. He wasn't accepting any favors—except for the refilled shot glass she ensured was provided. She started to snicker and Dean followed her gaze. "Oh-ho-ho, sweet roll's 'bout to be filled with _cream_."

"I gotta get him outta here," Dean muttered, staggering to his feet to get his brother before his minimally conscious self could encourage the drunken man coming on to him. "Help me get 'im, will ya?"

"You're no fun, pet," Angel sighed, rising from the stool to help remove Sam. Dean stood for a moment to try to get his balance, watching as Angel glided over to his brother and convinced him to follow her out of the bar. She came back for him and pulled his arm around her shoulders as well, supporting the two of them out to the car. She transferred the car to outside Bobby's house and glanced in the back seat, where the brothers were piled in a drunken, half-conscious tangle, and rolled her eyes. "You two would be helpless without me."

"Nn-nn," Dean protested vaguely, trying to remember exactly how many shots he'd had and how long they'd been gone. If the clock was right, they'd been gone two hours and, although he couldn't really remember, he was fairly certain at least thirteen shots had been downed. Angel snickered and got out, opening the back door to pull Sam out.

"I'll be back, lover, once I get your brother inside," she informed him, leaving the door open as she supported Sam into the house. Alarm shot through Dean, worried about Sam, and he stumbled out of the car. He realized there was gravel in his mouth and got himself back to his feet using the side of the car, cursing under his breath. He'd had more before, but he was feeling it bad and some part of him wanted to blame that on his age, or would have if he'd been able to think that coherently.

By the time he got into the house, he was angry at Angel, more so than he would've guessed. It was her damn fault he couldn't trust himself to walk and she'd even drugged Sammy. Angel smiled at him when he stopped in the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest, daring him to do something.

"I told you that you'd get angry and do something, lover. Looks like its time. Let's see what you do. Just remember—you can't blame me when you can't stand yourself in the morning."

...

"I see you got my message," Raphael greeted as Angel popped into existence on his couch, across the room from him.

"Kinda hard to miss, lover," she retorted, rolling her eyes as she put her feet up on his coffee table. "What's the plan—and the pay?"

"We're making progress on God's location. We should know within the next few months. In the meantime, I would appreciate your assistance in offing those annoyances you've been working with," he answered. "Do they still trust you?"

"Somewhat. They're starting to realize that I may be a bitch, but I'm nobody's whore. The number of times I've 'risked my life' are the only reasons they still trust me at all," Angel shrugged. "And, speaking of trust, how do I know you'll continue to work toward finding God if I help you off them now?"

"How do I know you'll trap them for me if you speak to God first?" Raphael countered. Angel crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back on the couch.

"Have I broken my word before, lover?" she asked drily. "This is a closed contract I'm obligated to fulfill. The one with the Winchesters is too vague and open—not to mention I made it clear from the beginning I would leave the moment a better deal was on the table and they accepted it as part of their contract. I'm free to move on to your deal or I never would have agreed."

"Somehow I doubt they understand that, if it's true at all," Raphael remarked.

"It is, lover, I promise," Angel responded with no little irritation, her red-stained lips settling into a disapproving frown. "I'm unlikely to help if I think you're not going to pay up and my help would really make your job _so_ much easier."

Raphael walked behind the couch, crouching behind it to bring himself closer to her level.

"I think you're forgetting which one of us has the power here, _sister_ ," he cooed threateningly.

"Careful or I'll kiss you, ducks. I do have a history with questionable Archangels," Angel mocked, smiling. Raphael stood with a scoff, his disgust disguised, but clear to her. Part of her was disappointed, but she'd expected it. Not everybody was willing to take Lucifer's reject, no matter how appealing that reject might be. Besides, she'd already calculated that the chance he could be controlled by the formation of an attachment was rather slim. He had always prided himself on being the most logical Archangel.

"If I get a zip code for God, so to speak, will you take them out?" Raphael asked. Angel considered for a moment before nodding. "Good. Get out and I'll let you know when I have it. Keep them from doing anything before I contact you again."

"I will. Lay low and I'll keep them on the Baduhenna hunt," she replied, grinning, before popping out of the room.

...

There was an anxiousness building in the house. Nothing was making sense about the hunt for Baduhenna. More than that, the feeling was rising that something was going to happen—and soon. Something bad was coming and they didn't know what to do. They hadn't been out on a hunt in weeks that wasn't related to Raphael and they were starting to go stir crazy. Three adult men, an angel, and whatever-the-hell-Angel-was trapped in one small house for weeks was a recipe for disaster and they all knew it.

"I'll be out until Friday or so," Angel announced as she passed through the crowded living room.

"Are you going to the location Baduhenna was believed to be in our last exam?" Cas asked, referring to the detailed goose-chase of a system Angel had been encouraging him to follow.

"Of course," she replied lightly as she reached the door. The humans all looked up. Cas didn't seem to think her response was unusual, but the humans certainly did. Her voice was too even and her words were too uncharacteristic. It wasn't like her and that meant danger—for them or for someone else. It awakened all of their hunting instincts more than her presence usually did.

"Cas, why don't you follow her to help her? She might miss something on her own," Bobby suggested. A subtle nod from Sam and a glance from Dean assured him that he'd picked the right solution, if they could swing it. Cas looked at Bobby in a typically quizzical way.

"Yeah, man, you ought to help her out. What if the Bad Bitch's still there?" Dean pressured.

"I don't know where she is now," Cas pointed out slowly, realizing that they were all looking at him.

"C'mon, she can't be that hard to find. She doesn't have any wards on her, does she?" Dean insisted. Cas looked at the wall for a moment while he checked. He stood before answering.

"No, she does not. Will you inform me of anything that occurs before I return?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, of course we will. Go find her before she decides to hide herself," Dean answered. Cas popped out of the room and Sam and Bobby looked at Dean.

"You worryin' about what she's up to as much as I am?" Bobby asked. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, there's something that isn't right. Hopefully Cas'll figure it out," he answered.

"Do you think we should've waiting to send him after her, then? She might not be into anything if he catches up now," Sam pointed out.

"Better that she doesn't start it at all," Bobby grumbled in response.

"Unless it's ongoing," Sam insisted. Bobby and Dean shared a look. They'd been wondering about her for a while and Sam's suspicions didn't make them feel any safer.

"Next time, we should send Cas to follow her instead, then," Dean answered. "It's too late this time. He'll have found her already."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me, just my character Angel and bits of the plot.**

...

"It was another dead end. We're back," Angel announced Friday afternoon as she popped into the kitchen. Cas, appearing in the living room, was left to relate the details of their pointless three-day journey while Angel got into the theoretically-nonexistent stash of liquor in the back of the baking cabinet. Cas's version of the details wasn't must more than Angel's conclusion—there was nothing new to report. They weren't any closer to finding the rampaging pagan goddess and they had no concrete evidence that they'd even been on her trail.

"Anyway, there's not much to do here and Crowley might have picked some information up for us, so I'm just going to take this and go. Good job hiding it this time, by the way. You're getting better, Bobby," Angel remarked as she headed toward the living room. She waited for a protest before shrugging and popping out of the room, unconcerned that no one but Bobby seemed to notice her. Cas sat down and allowed the others to involve him in the work they were already doing.

Angel, on the other hand, went to a little flat in southern Germany to meet Raphael. If her brother tried to find her, he would find indications of her presence at Crowley's main flat with no evidence of her falsehood. She didn't worry about Crowley betraying her, but she _did_ worry about Raphael nuking the place, so to speak, instead of attending their planned meeting. He'd been increasingly irritated with her demands and, in his opinion, lack of pay. He'd told her it was unreasonable that she demanded payment before she trapped the hunters, but she knew better. He was whining because he didn't intend to pay her at all and she wasn't going to help otherwise. She knew something of Archangels.

It wasn't much of a surprise to her, then, when he showed up an hour late with little in the way of encouragement.

"Y'know, sugar, you aren't very good at working miracles for a fucking Archangel," Angel sighed, irritated with the pointless work they'd done so far and the lack of hope for future results.

"Hold your tongue if you can't say anything helpful. It isn't easy to track down God," Raphael snapped. Angel rolled her eyes.

"Humans seem to find him everywhere," she sneered. "Maybe you just aren't stupid enough to do it, lover."

"And what would that say about you—knowing you're too stupid to find him but trying anyway?" Raphael countered.

"It says maybe I want to prove I'm not as much of a stupid ass as you are. Is there anything else for us to discuss here or can I go? I'd rather be arguing with those idiotic hunters than with you. At least they're more fun," Angel grumbled.

"I told you I'll have the information by next month. We need to start planning _your_ part now," Raphael pointed out. Angel made a face and threw herself back into her seat, her fingers curling instinctively around the neck of the liquor bottle already placed there.

"All right, what exactly are you planning on having me do?" she asked reluctantly. Raphael sat on the other end of the couch, an unusual move. He hardly ever mimicked human behavior so far as to sit down.

"You're going to bring them to a little surprise I have prepared. I'll send you the address tomorrow after I decide which of the finalists would be best suited to my purposes. What you will do is convince them that you've found something on Baduhenna—some way to enslave her or kill her, whatever you want—and then you will inform them that they must go there immediately. Transport them to the location and get them inside. I'll have a trap waiting to ensure they don't escape. After that, you can stay around and watch the proceedings. I haven't decided yet how much more involvement I'll require of you," he explained.

"Details aren't your strong suit, are they?" she replied wryly, taking a drink. Already irritated with her, Raphael proceeded to instead give her a detailed description of everything up until the setting of the final traps. "Fuck off, that's too many details. You aren't good at this."

"It would be easier if I was using an angel that still had some semblance of a connection to heaven. Communication was much easier there," he pointed out.

"Oh, fuck off for real now, lover. No angel from heaven would go along with something as stupid and petty as this if they knew your motivations," she answered.

"Angels don't question the word of the Archangel in command. You know that better than anyone, I would say, don't you?"

"Bastard," Angel muttered, glaring at him as she lifted the liquor bottle to her lips once more. Raphael was a bit surprised at her lack of response, but he knew she must have felt something more and some feeling like respect began to kindle in him toward her. She may have been the refuse of the universe, but she never let anybody make her feel it. "Can I go now or do you need to bore me with the location of every atom in a ten mile radius of this perfect plan?"

"You may leave. Be ready to act on my signal. I'll send it as soon as I have God's location."

"Just don't try to lie about it. I'll know as soon as I see you—Archangel or not. You can't lie to someone suckled on deceit."

...

"You have the Colt on you at all times now, don't you, lover?" Angel asked pointedly as she popped into Crowley's home bar.

"Yes, I keep it with me. Why?" Crowley asked, getting another glass of the shelf for her.

"It'll be soon and I'll need you there. Raphael may try to kill me along with the others, but I've downplayed my involvement with you and I don't think he'll take precautions against a demon. Are you still on my side?"

"I told you once it would be suicidal to choose another and I stand by that. I'm _not_ eager to die—again, I should say."

"I knew you were smarter than Daddy gave you credit for, ducks," Angel remarked. Her grin faded and changed to a look almost of concern. "You still cringe when I say that. Is it the bad memories?"

"No, it's that you still give him power over you. You said you wouldn't return to Hell unless everyone knew it was by your own power and you'll never be able to if you keep calling him that. That's what he trained you to do, to submit to him. You can't still do that and prove yourself."

"I never said I wanted to return to Hell, though. Bad memories, you know."

"What would they matter if you made good ones? You could rule Hell as a better god than Lucifer ever was because you don't love God."

"Don't tempt me with such notions. I prefer other temptations."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"I nicked a bottle of decent bourbon from Balthazar on my way over here if you want to try it."

"Isn't he on the other side of the world?"

"Well, _yes_ , but I can't make him feel neglected. He's part of my game plan too. Although his part isn't as important as yours, of course."

"Of course not. You do know flattery won't get you anywhere, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, but it puts you in such a better mood and you're so very attentive when you're in a good mood."

"As long as the intention is _your satisfaction_."

"Oh, hush, lover. You know you're more than satisfied before I leave. It just amuses me to bring up Balthazar because you get that hateful light in your eyes and I know it means more fun for us both."

"Speaking of fun, what are you going to do after Moose, Squirrel & co are gone? I don't imagine you'll stick with Raphael long."

"That's not public information yet. I can't tell you all my secrets."

"Even though I, an immortal being, live in mortal fear of you?"

"Yes, even so, sugar. I think flattery like that might get you somewhere."

"Flattery or mental images of my brutal torture?"

"There's little difference to me, lover, and you know it. Besides, haven't I taught you that pleasure and pain are just two sides of the same coin? If one controls the coin, one can use both interchangeably to achieve an amplified result."

"So you've said."

"Was that an invitation to prove it, ducks?"

"Only if the result is positive."

...

Angel knew before Raphael sent his message when it would happen. She could feel it—the excitement of an Archangel—even from the distance. Accordingly, she's already made her plans. Balthazar was in the house; Crowley was on call. She was as prepared as she could hope to be. So it was that, when Raphael sent the signal, she already had her Angel blade hidden in her boot. A quick slide down the stairs and she had everyone's attention.

"Crowley's found her—for sure. We've got Baduhenna, but we've got to hurry before she gets out," Angel announced once she hit the bottom stair. It was a testament to her hard work that everyone jumped into motion without hesitation. She knew they didn't trust her fully, but they trusted her enough to gather. As per her previous arrangement, Balthazar lent her his power to transport the group to the location before he left. They were in a parking lot, outside what appeared to be an old factory. "We should be careful getting inside. Crowley said it might be tricky."

"He's certain she's still here?" Dean asked, slightly reluctant. Angel nodded and started toward a broken window around the side.

"This is where he said he got it. Don't screw up following me, lovers," she warned before slipping into the building. They followed her quietly as she led them through a maze of hallways to the main factory room. Before stepping into the room, Angel stood back by the door to show everyone into the room, thereby avoiding the holy fire circle that suddenly sparked to trap the others. They turned to look at her immediately. "I told you not to trust me, ducks."

"She's good at betrayal," Raphael informed loudly from the other side of the room. They spun around, surprise marking their features. An angel blade appeared in Cas's hand, everyone else quietly inching toward their own. "Join me, sister, so I know you aren't planning something against me as well."

"I'm 'sister' today, am I?" she asked as she leisurely made her way around the room to the front. "I'll stay back here while you finish your business with them, lover, unless you want to give me that address now."

"I'll tell you Father's location as soon as I'm finished," Raphael assured her. She jumped up to a crate and sat down, legs and arms crossed impatiently. The dirty looks she was getting passed as she got out her phone, signaling she wouldn't be involved further, and attention centered on the Archangel that was likely to kill them.

Raphael stood well-outside the circle, preparing for his speech. Something about them made him want to go on a rant—to explain his motive—to let some other sentient being understand what he was feeling without them ever being able to use it against him. He didn't intend anyone in the building to leave—not his enemies or the spies he'd used. Even though Angel had been too cautious to enter the room until the holy fire circle was up, Raphael wasn't worried. He would kill her, the same as the others, but they were first. She was spiteful enough to free them with the last of her existence if he killed her now.

The hunters were giving each other looks, trying to determine what to do, but Cas did not look away from his brother. Cas looked angry, defiant—one could almost see how Angel was connected to the other angels in his expression—determined not to let his brother be the end of him. Cas had survived and fought too much to let Raphael kill him now—Hell, he thought he'd killed Raphael once before. He knew he could do it again, if only he could get the advantage. He shifted his attention to Angel. If he could convince her to drop the circle for him, if only for a second….

When he turned his attention to her, he noticed that she wasn't alone—not entirely. Behind her, the wall was unclear, shimmering like heat from the road. When the Colt appeared in Angel's lap and the visual disturbance vanished, Cas understood. Angel had been working with Crowley.

Angel looked up and met Cas's eye, smiling.

"Close your eyes, boys," she instructed. Everyone began to turn toward her, but she was too quick. With a flick of her wrist, she aimed the gun at Raphael and pulled the trigger. When he fell and left a wingstain on the ground, she dropped the gun and stood. "I told you I wouldn't let you kill me, damn you."

"That's great, but can you let us out now?" Sam asked, his arms crossed over her chest. Angel smiled her dangerous smile.

"Let you out? Lovers, you're exactly where I intend you to remain—for the moment, at least. Raphael was having fun boring us with his speech, but you might like mine better. It's shorter," she stated.

"What are you talking about?" Dean demanded impatiently. "Let us out of here and you can tell us whatever you want back at Bobby's."

"I don't think you understand, ducks. I wasn't working with Raphael just to kill him. I'm here to kill you too," she explained. She watched them in silence as the realization hit them. "I know you're upset, darlings, but you can't be surprised, can you? I wanted to find God and nobody would help me. Somehow, Castiel and Sam and Dean Winchester keep coming back from the dead. Daddy Dearest _must_ be involved, so I tried to stick with you long enough to get a clue to find him, but it didn't work.

"Naturally, that wasn't good enough for me, so I came up with a theory—If I took out Raphael, the last Archangel, Daddy Dearest would be forced to intervene personally if I killed you. Of course, one or two of you might be able to be brought back if God used another angel as a vessel of power, but it wouldn't work for all three. Not to mention, I'm fairly certain that—BOBBY, NO ESCAPING," Angel growled, holding out her hand toward him. He fell to the ground and the Winchesters knelt at his side, but a warning look kept Cas from interfering. "I'll kill him again if any of you manage to restart his heart."

"Why would you kill Bobby? He doesn't have anything to do with the rest of us!" Dean protested.

"I'll be weakened after I kill you as planned and Bobby could probably get the gun and kill me if he was sneaky enough or he could send for help. Obviously, I have to stay around to talk to Daddy Dearest and I can't do that if I'm dead, can I?" Angel explained lazily. "Hush now, lovers, while I tell you what I learned. Early on, I began to form a theory that time and interaction have supported fully—the three of you will only die and stay dead if you are killed at the same moment.

"Daddy Dearest isn't stupid—he set up a plan. I'm certain that he put safeguards into heavenly orders that would cause Cas to be summoned upon either of your deaths or for another angel to be summoned if Cas was unavailable or dead himself. If you're killed together, the angel will try to reach you and will be unable to do so because of the holy fire circle. Both of the humans being vessels, one could be used to revive the others if an angel couldn't enter otherwise, but that won't work if the vessels aren't useable.

"So, obviously, if I kill all three of you at once, there is no possible way that any of you can recover without the hand of Daddy Dearest himself. It will be simple to get him to talk to me once he's here—or follow him if he doesn't stay long enough. Either way, I'll get my hit in soon and that's enough for me for now," she concluded, leisurely returning to pick up the Colt. "I was hoping to make this more personal, but I don't have many options with the circle, so I'll have to injure you beyond fighting first."

Three bullets left the gun and those left standing in the circle fell. Angel smiled and put out the holy fire, sauntering over to her victims.

"You shouldn't feel this personally, lovers. You were each entertaining in your own way; I just need to get Daddy Dearest's attention," she informed them, gathering them together before kneeling nearby. "One two three and the angel blade will kill you all. But first I'd better keep myself from being trapped."

Angel returned to outside the circle and relit it, gathering another two angel blades. She let them go and directed them to hover over their helpless victims, wondering if they were even capable of last words by then. She concluded that it would be irrelevant and shot the blades into their chests. A flash of light and wingstains assured her she'd successfully killed her second brother for the day. The angel blades flashed as other angels were sent to recover the three, but Angel felt safe outside the circle with the Colt and a blade. She waited for a moment before dropping them, crossing her arms over her chest.

Had she misread the situation? Was Daddy Dearest really gone—only his orders keeping those three fools alive for so long? Or was he watching, waiting for her to give up and leave before he appeared? Angel frowned at the bodies inside the circle. She was determined not to leave—just in case. It didn't matter. She was going to speak to Daddy Dearest and harm him too if she could.

She underestimated God's plans. She thought she knew that, but she didn't realize it until she felt the bite of a blade in her abdomen. She dropped her weapons and looked at the weapon in shock, wondering what had happened. The blade disappeared from her sight and suddenly she was laying on the ground. She felt someone still behind her and looked to see who had killed her.

"Gabriel," she rasped in some surprise. Hadn't she been told Raphael was the only free and living Archangel?

"Yeah, it's me," Gabriel replied. She was dying and he didn't feel the need to hide his response. It wasn't every day that God asked a favor from his secretly-living son and Gabriel hadn't seen a way to refuse. Besides, he knew Angel had to be stopped. He'd just hoped there could be another way.

"It's cold, like Hell," Angel rasped, staring blankly across the room. "I don't want to die."

"I'm sorry," Gabriel answered—and really meant it. As the messenger Archangel, he'd taken a personal interest in teaching the youngest of heaven to communicate. He'd heard her first words and now he would hear her last.

"Fuck you, God, and everyone else. None of you are sorry. It's just Lucifer's whore, after all, and nobody stopped me from becoming this back then," Angel managed, her words starting to choke as her Grace began to glow through her ashy skin. Gabriel knew she would die any moment and that he didn't need to stay, but he remained. Angels spent so much of their time connected that it seemed unacceptable that one should die alone, even one such as she. "I'll kill you—I'll kill you all."

"No," Gabriel informed her, lifting his blade again. "You won't."

A quick slice, a flash of light, and Angel joined the dead. Gabriel sat beside her body for a moment before finishing God's instructions. He moved her body to stand and was surprised by the stain her wings left. Crooked, mangled, ever-so-small. A baby angel's wings, twisted into the shape of briars. He saw in the pain his brothers' work—Lucifer for doing it, Michael for casting her into the Cage, himself for giving her permission to go build a star with Lucifer—and his father's for letting it all happen—for letting her exist in the first place.

He'd been watching her progress, but he hadn't wanted to interfere—she saved them all when Cas got it into his head to become God, after all. He'd been impressed when she used herself and Hell's power to manufacture a false goddess to distract the hunters from their plan. She was intelligent—intuitive. He'd been impressed.

Nonetheless, Gabriel knew he'd stalled enough. A wave of his hand and the holy fire was gone, another and the blades were displaced. He shot to space before another angel could come and finish the work. He didn't want to see anyone and he certainly didn't want to hear those fools talking about the miracle that saved them. It would be too hard. Killing her had been hard enough.

"If that damned demon hadn't taken that recording," he muttered to himself as he passed through a nebula. It would've been sad without that, sure, but it would've been easy to do without hesitation or a second thought. She'd rambled about the cold of Hell and prayed for God to save her, just like he suspected she had done when she had been trapped there in the beginning. That had been bad, but, at the end, she began crying out for her brothers and his own name had been first. She had begged him to save her and it was so far too late. In a way, he supposed at least he had ended her suffering now.

His father's creation never changed. It was made of rash decisions and regret.


End file.
